


How to Say: “I Love You” (And Actually Mean It)

by Galaticx



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Background Relationships, M/M, Trans Character, Vaginal Sex, multi-ship drabble fic, somewhat canon compliant at times but i mean, they're short little drabbles, unbeta'd; we die like men.
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:09:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 29,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26014795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galaticx/pseuds/Galaticx
Summary: They’re a strange combination of people, full of just as many clashing traits as meshing ones. Somehow, they make everything work. From friends to lovers, and everything in between, they’re unshakable, undividable, impossible to tear away from one another, like a moth drawn to burning flames.(A collection of drabbles for the Chocobros, switching between ships. Chapter summaries detail any specific AUs or other such important information. Based off of a prompt post on Tumblr by atropaazraelle.)
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia/Ignis Scientia, Gladiolus Amicitia/Noctis Lucis Caelum, Gladiolus Amicitia/Prompto Argentum, Gladiolus Amicitia/Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum/Ignis Scientia, Noctis Lucis Caelum/Ignis Scientia, Prompto Argentum/Ignis Scientia, Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum
Comments: 1
Kudos: 20





	1. (Gladio/Ignis) Drive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've never written FFXV before! I hope I've gotten their characters right. 
> 
> o “Pull over. Let me drive for a while.” Gladnis; set during high school. Gladio and Ignis take a drive. 1592 words.

There’s a heavy breeze pushing back contrasting locks of hair, colored ash brown and a shade matching close to burning wood respectively, as chilled fingers of the gale grips and catches against fabrics of shirts and the chain of a necklace. Rough, worn, calloused hands clutch at the black leather of the steering wheel cover, white-knuckled and near trembling from the pressure. Heavy amber eyes set sternly on the road ahead as headlights beam down the empty road out of Insomnia.

Ignis clutches down strands of his own hair in his fingers, breaking his perfect posture to lean his face on his palm, and his elbow on the car door. Around them, the car rattles, a rundown sort of thing, stained black after purchase, paint thinning in a place or two to reveal the original silver-white, but it’s Gladio’s pride and joy, something he’d saved up desperately for. Green eyes flutter over to the teen in question, watching him in the dim lighting floating back at them from the headlights, and the streetlamps they were currently drifting between. With a gentle clearing of his throat, he sits back in his seat, hands clasped politely in his lap as he starts,

“Something is troubling you.”

Momentarily, Gladio shifts his eyes over to the younger teen in his passenger seat, daring a sidelong glance away from the road before he scoffs, rolling his shoulders alongside his eyes, and puts them back to the strip of asphalt before them. “What makes you say that, specs?”

Ignis huffs in return, the noise every bit as indignant as the one from Gladio had been. He slides his glasses up the bridge of his nose and turns his head to better look at the Crownsguard. “You’re rather easy to read, Gladiolus. I’ve known you much too long.”

They’d known each other for a year now. Not nearly long enough to be read so well, but the older boy doesn’t fight. For once.

“Is it Noctis once again?”

Gladio splutters, hands nearly releasing the wheel of his ride. Was it really that easy to see? His right hand drifts down, slipping the center dial on the radio towards the left, sliding the volume to a quiet, crisp five on the scale to fifty. Rock music falters down, and he lets his arm rest against the console between them. The wind is no less deafening though, not with the car soaring at an even fifty-five and the convertible roof folded away.

He’s sixteen, damn nearly a man, and here he sits, ready to lose his temper over a fourteen-year-old brat, so damn obvious that a kid he’d known for a sliver of a decade sees straight through him. Though Ignis had been dealing with the spoiled little prince for much longer, so perhaps he’s merely adept at sensing when the problem at hand involves the boy in question.

“If I’d known you were going to interrogate me, I wouldn’t have asked you to come along.” He snaps, though it comes out much harsher than he’d originally intended, hissing from clenched jaws.  
A hand much smaller and more slender than his own ghosts past the skin of his arm before it takes hold of the lidded cup in the holder before the console, and the ash-brunette slips the lid back, raising it to his mouth and taking a polite sip. He keeps the black metal cup in his grasp, clutching it between his thighs. The little hairs lining Gladio’s arm stand up on end at the touch, though he’ll merely blame it on the cool wind of an early fall night. “Why did you ask me to accompany you then, if not for interrogation?”

It feels almost like a joke. Gladio thinks he’s on the verge of a stroke. Ignis doesn’t joke.

…

Does he?

“I guess I just wanted company.” He grunts out, hoping it isn’t too horribly delayed as Ignis takes another sip. “And my sister talks way too much.”

There’s the slightest flicker of an understanding smile across the ash-brunette’s lips, he barely catches it out of the corner of his eye as he checks the rearview. They fall back into silence, and Ignis slips his cup back into the holder. Gladio swears his fingers linger just a half-a-second too long against his own. His heart skips so hard he nearly thinks it’s stopped beating; just grown legs and ran out of his chest, leaving him feeling empty.

The car swerves ever so slightly, and those slim fingers clasp down on his forearm. Had he scared him? Does Ignis even know fear?

“Pull over,” he hears the quiet, accented voice implore from beside him, “let me drive.” For a hair-width of a second, amber locks with green. Gladio nods, pulling over past the white lines bordering the road. They sit in silence, accompanied merely by one another, the soft pettling of the engine, and the strings of a guitar solo slipping from the radio speakers. “I understand that Noctis can be a bit much.”

Without the wind rushing past their ears, Ignis’s voice is so much clearer. Softer. Gladio feels his face burn, and he hopes the dark of the night can cover it well enough. Though, even in the dimmest of glows from the headlights, and a streetlamp a good twenty-something feet ahead, Ignis looks rather stunning, his hair windswept and eyes a gentle, smoldering jade, like leftover embers crackling in the base of a firepit. His lips part and a sigh slips from them before he shifts in his seat, looking the least professional that Gladio had ever seen him. He continues speaking.

“He can be difficult to connect with, and even more so to comprehend, but he means well. His social skills certainly need some working, along with his motivation, but, believe it or not, Gladiolus, he does look up to you in some capacity. He’s told me so much. The boy is many things, but he’s certainly not a lair.” Ignis leans across Gladio’s side, and stretches his right arm over him to pop open the door lock. So close, Gladio can scent coffee on the other teen’s breath, and the soft spice of his shampoo. His cheeks feel like a flashfire has started on them. All too quickly, and not quickly enough, Ignis begins to sit back in the passenger chair.

Gladio catches him by the arm, keeping him close. Jade eyes meet his own, soft brown brows drawn close, puzzled. He feels himself begin to lean in, and watches those green eyes widen in surprise. He freezes in place, splutters, and thrusts Ignis’s arm from his grasp. Eventually, Ignis makes another move, pulling the handle to his own door and sliding out from the passenger seat, and Gladio fully expects to watch him break into a full-blown splint down the side of the road, back to Insomnia and away from the weird sophomore that may-or-may-not have just tried to kiss him.  
Instead, Ignis walks around the front of the car, his shadow stretching and shrinking as he makes his way to the driver’s side. He pulls the door open, motioning with his free hand for Gladio to step out. He stands, passing by with a meek sort of expression. They stand face-to-face, or, at least, as well as they can when Gladio stands a solid couple inches above him. He coughs into one hand, nervously running the other across the fade of his haircut. Suddenly, just as much so as the older boy had shown up an hour ago, honking his horn outside the Scientia household, Ignis reaches outwards, catching Gladio by the collar of his shirt like a dog about to be scolded and thrown outside, and the darker brunette freezes, fully expecting a strike to his face, knowing that he’d deserve so much for the move he’d just tried to make.

But he finds himself being struck in a whole different way than he’d imagined. Soft as the petals to a flower, Ignis’s lips brush his own and he damn nearly tastes the coffee the other teen loved so desperately. It’s a quick brush of their lips, but Gladio finds himself stepping forward to try and deepen it. He kicks the inside of his car door instead, opening his eyes, when had he even closed them, and lowering them down to the metal trapped between their legs. Ignis’s gaze follows as well, and they both look back up at once, locking amber to green once more and laughter slips from their mouths. Gladio steps aside, dropping down into a mock bow as he gestures for Ignis to take the driver's seat. Once he’s settled, he shuts the door behind him and slips into shotgun, hands folded nervously into his lap.

As Ignis switches the car into drive, and safely returns them to the road, he scoffs out a grumbled, “I guess I can give the runt another chance.”

The radio station is switched and turned up a few notches as he swears he hears the other brunette let out a chuckle. “If I’d known it would have been so easy to persuade you, I would have done that quite some time ago.”

Gladio chokes on nothing, suddenly feeling as if all of this is merely a dream. Ignis turns the car around in a U-turn, headed back towards Insomnia. Watching Ignis in the low light of the highbeams and the streetlamps, Gladio swears, that, if this is some sort of cruel dream, he never wants to wake up from it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somewhat inspired by "Let's Fall in Love for the Night" by FINNEAS? It's so catchy, and it's been on repeat in my brain since Tuesday, help,


	2. (Noctis/Prompto) Marketable Mornings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> o “It reminded me of you.” Promptis; on the road. Noctis surprises Prompto with a gift, just because he can. 1686 words.

Stopped over in Lestallum, Noctis is more disgruntled than usual to be woken before a reasonable hour. Ignis had shaken him awake, however gently, his gloved palm swaying one shoulder back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, until blue eyes flutter open and immediately are accompanied by a groan and an arm thrown over them. “Iggy! Close the blinds!”

Ignis shushes him with a firm index finger to his lips, and Gladio scrapes him out from his covers and bed like gum off the bottom of a shoe. His eyes catch the hour on the clock as he’s shoved into the bathroom, arms filled with clean clothes and the door is shut behind him. He spies himself in the mirror, eyes rolling at his reflection. Great. Accosted from his own bed before 10 AM by his own guard and adviser. As he strips from his old clothes and tosses on the clean ones, he briefly considers locking the door and trying to sleep in the tub for a bit. Noctis shakes his head. No, Gladio would just break the door down, and then they’d owe the hotel a new one.

He was utterly stuck at the whims of his companions. Whoever said that princes could do whatever they wanted were seriously misinformed. Noctis recaps his toothbrush and makes one solid stretch, a yawn slipping from his mouth, reopening the door to a silently-waiting Gladio and Ignis sitting on the foot of the bed closest to the window. He looks over to Prompto and sees that he’s still wrapped up in the covers, body twisted on his stomach, his head facing the window as the opposite leg is thrown over the edge of the bed. Noctis gestures wildly to the sleeping blonde as he’s suddenly accosted once again by Gladio, grabbed by the shoulders, and directed right out the door to the hotel room.

“Okay, woah, woah, hold up,” he holds up his hands as he’s swept down the hallway, stopping solidly before the brunettes before placing them both on his hips, “why’s he get to sleep in?”

“We need a third person to assist with the bags of supplies.” Ignis informs, coolly, evenly. Gladio nods beside him.

“And Prompto always gets saddled with it. You should help out for once, let the kid sleep in.” Slipping one arm over the prince’s shoulders, the crownsguard begins leading him down the hall once again, and the trio scales down the stairs into the main lobby. Soon after, they’re out the main door, Noctis trudging along as Gladio leads the way towards the marketplace. Ignis is behind him, combing his sleep-mussed ebony hair with a comb he keeps in his pocket.

Noctis waves him away once they reach the crowds, and Ignis obliges only after pulling his overgrown bangs from his eyes with a soft, hopeless sigh. Geez, what a mother hen. “Gather only the necessities, and stay where we can see you.”

“Yeah, yeah…” He’s immediately let loose as the older men turn away, drifting a few stalls down. Ignis slips some gil into his hand as he finally relents fully, and Noctis immediately makes space between them, sleep-addled brain still fuzzy and grumpy from such an early rise. He drifts from stall to stall, grabbing some curatives he knows they’re low on, and a snack for the road after holding it up for Ignis to see, and a nod in return. It’s after he’s turned away from that stall, clutching the snack beneath his arm and trying to sort through a bag slung around his wrist, that he spies something golden out of the corner of his eyes. He deposits the food into the bag rather absentmindedly then, and turns to whatever had caught his attention.

This stall is run by an elderly woman, her round glasses set low on her nose as she reads a paper clutched in her worn hands. She spares him a passing glance and a smile that creases her face in new ways her wrinkles already hadn’t. He merely nods, before looking at the stall’s setup, catching again the sight of the object of his interest.

It’s a bracelet, clearly handmade, woven together by braided cords of a soft-looking material attached to a thin strip of leather, light enough to wear on the wrist, but heavy enough it’ll last quite some time. Secured into the middle of the bracelet sits a softwood charm, sanded down to the point splinters are no longer even a slim possibility, circular in shape and lined with golden inlays that shape out a small, round chocobo. Immediately, Noctis is reminded of a certain little ray of sunshine, likely still lounging contently asleep in bed. He smiles at the thought of Prompto, and lets his blue eyes drift up to meet the woman’s face once more.

“How much?” He asks, pointing down at the bracelet, and her smile returns again.

By the time they’d returned to the hotel room, Prompto was up and about. He’d pulled an oversized shirt over his shoulders, sleepily rubbing at his eyes as he opened the door to let them in. Noctis immediately recognizes the shirt as one of Gladio’s, suppressing a laugh as he slips into the room to set the bags on his arms down on the nearest bed. Behind him, he hears a bark from the top’s owner and a yelp, looking over his shoulder as Gladio reaches for the blonde in a half-hearted attempt to snatch the shirt back.

Prompto makes a beeline for his prince, ducking behind him as if he were the last shield on the face of Eos. “It was the only thing that was clean!” He whines, and Noctis sees his adviser give a slight shake of his head in response.

“Just tell me you’re wearing underwear.” Gladio crosses his arms, a smile on his lips all the same.

“What? Of course!” Prompto keens. The crownsguard laughs heartily, tossing his head back as if this were the funniest thing he’d ever encountered in his twenty-three years of life. Embarrassment floods over the blonde’s face, turning him red enough to rival even some of the fruits Ignis had bought for breakfast the next morning.

Speaking of, the adviser took gentle hold of Gladio’s shoulder. “Let us go settle the laundry situation then. These two can handle the groceries, surely.” It’s more of a demand than a request, Noctis knows, despite Ignis’s tone of voice. Not long after, the older two of the party disappear out the front door once more, taking with them bags of dirty laundry, leaving the younger to finish up with the morning’s purchases.

Prompto fished a flat, long case out of a bag, eying it with curiosity as he turned it around in his hands. “Heeeyy, what’s this?” Noctis turns, spying the little box in his hands and merely shrugs.

“Just something that I got for you.”

“For me?” Blue eyes light up, a soft blush dusting the freckled cheeks beneath. He immediately reminds Noctis of a kid presented with a pile of birthday gifts.

“It reminded me of you.” He shrugs again, and then nods down at the little box. Prompto didn’t have to voice the question that hung in the air between them, Noctis already had the answer prepared. “Go ahead, Prom, you can open it up.”

Freckled arms shot into the air as the blonde triumphed in his victory, before he caught himself away from his excitement, clearing his throat as if that were enough to calm him. He turned the box around in his hands again, looking for the clasp to open it. Blue locked with blue as Prompto began to belt out the first few notes to the victory theme from King’s Knight, earning the slightest roll of the eyes from Noctis. Shaking his head, the raven crossed the space between them, leaning one hand on the dining table in the kitchenette, lowering himself ever-so-slightly as to deliver a soft peck onto Prompto’s lips. “Just open it already, chocobo-butt.”

Despite the blush so clearly betraying him, the blonde merely stuck his tongue out in response and then flipped the clasp to the box up, and lifted the lid. As soon as his eyes met the glowing face of the golden chocobo, his whole face lit up with the same expression, Noctis noticed, as the same one he always had when he looked through his camera roll at the end of the day. Chuckling, the prince placed a tiny kiss on a freckled nose, “like it?”

“I love it!” Prompto slid the bracelet free from the case, and held it alongside his wrist out to Noctis. “Will you do the honors?”

Securing the bracelet into its proper place, the raven spared a glance upwards, catching a glimpse of the expression on Prompto’s face. Soft, gold rays of sunlight filtered through the window nearby, catching in the blonde’s lashes, lighting his baby blues to a bright aquamarine. He looked absolutely _elated_ , and, as Noctis watched the sunlight flitter around on his freckled face, one part of his brain started counting them as his hands let go of the bracelet, one, two, three… and he saw the way that the sunrise, even though it was distant and fading quickly, reflected itself in Prompto’s eyes as if they were the sky themselves, was enough to make him think that maybe, just maybe, early mornings weren’t so bad. In moderation, at least.

Prompto threw his arms around Noctis’s shoulder’s laughing and giggling. “You’re the best!” He exclaims, before drawing back just enough to deliver his own, swift kiss to the ever-pouting lips of his prince. Another giggle slipped from him as he felt Noctis slide his hands across his back, and then down to his hips.

“How long do you think Iggy and Gladio will be gone?” Noctis muttered as they separated for a breath.

“Dude, you’re horrible.”

“I thought I was the best, though.”

Prompto scoffed, ever-so-lightly giving the other man a shove, eyes catching on his brand-new bracelet as he did so. “Just shut up and kiss me.”


	3. (Ignis/Noctis) Early Bird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> o “No, no, it’s my treat.” Ignoct; modern setting. Ignis decides to treat his prince to a nice breakfast before a college exam. 1330 words.

Sunlight catches in the windows across the street, reflecting back in flares as gloved hands pull the blackout curtains back, securing them and pinning them into place. Mounted on the nearby wall, an analog clock marks the time at 9:28 in the morning, Ignis having arrived three minutes prior. He’d already slipped the dishes stacked up in the sink into the washer after setting the grocery bags lining his arms on the kitchen island. He spared a passing glance at the ticking hands on the clock’s face as he turned around, pulling back the next set of curtains. Another minute ticked by; his hands busied with clearing the two-person dining table of discarded papers. He spares a moment to organize them -political reports, graded class assignments, half-hearted notes from the same class- and only stops once his phone vibrates in his pants pocket. Ignis slips it out, sliding the alarm off the screen, a bright, large-font 9:30 reflecting off his green eyes.

He starts down the hall, heels clicking gently against the hardwood floors, and knocks on the closed bedroom door. No response. With a twist of the knob, he opens the door wide, and steps inside. Strewn across the bed, wrapped in a plethora of blankets, lays the twisted form of the young prince. Ebony locks go this way and that, making him look very much as if he had slept standing on his head, and his left arm is pressed under his head, face towards the balcony door and window, though the curtains over those are also drawn shut, and his mouth his misaligned, drool slipping onto his arm. Sleeping Beauty he was not.

Ignis crossed the threshold, sliding the curtains along the rod securing them in place, and opens the room up to the morning’s light. Behind him he hears the prince groan, mutter something that sounds suspiciously close to a curse, and pull the covers up over his head. Hands settling on his hips, the ash-brunette steps closer, and his gloved hands clutch at the top of a blanket, snatching it away. Noctis groans once more, grasping blindly for another cover, only to find that every layer of his bedding had been stripped back and folded neatly at the foot of the bed.

Finally, his jewel-colored blue eyes open, blinking at the influx of light. “Igniiiiss,” he whines, in a very un-prince-like manner, and struggles to sit himself up, “betrayed by my own adviser…”

“It is 9:35, by all means, this is a rather late awakening.” He’s unbothered by this turn of events, arms crossed over his chest as he stands at the foot of the bed. “Come, time to get the day started.”

Noctis merely vents out a noise of utter frustration and plops backwards onto the pillows, arms raised into the air before they land by his sides. Ignis flutters between dresser drawers like a butterfly at a flower bush, extracting various articles of clothing before folding them neatly into a pile and placing it within the prince’s reach. “I was up late the last few nights; I could’ve really used an extra hour or two…”

“Then go to bed early tonight.” Comes the cold-voiced reply, unwavering like a blizzard’s winds against frostbitten skin of a lost wanderer, though much less uncaring. He certainly doesn’t seem any better in Noctis’s eyes. He rolls over and grabs the change of clothes, stripping off his shirt in one fluid motion. “Once you’re finished, join me in the living area.”

“Want me to order some breakfast?” Noctis calls after him as he slips out from the bedroom, leaving the door wide open. He catches a shake of Ignis’s head as he disappears through the doorframe and down the hall.

“No, no, it’s my treat.” Buttoning up his pants, the prince shrugs to himself. Hey, he offered, and it’s the thought that counts right? From down the hall, he hears Ignis shuffling around in the kitchen and the rustling of groceries. Ah, it’s a morning of home cooking it seems.

Extracting a pot from the lower cabinets, Ignis half fills it and sets it on a burner, leaving it to boil. He sets then to slicing a cut of fish down into smaller strips, setting it aside once finished and turning to wash his hands. Green eyes check the stove clock by reflex, and he calls down the hall once enough time passes of mere silence, besides the bubbling water. “Noct!” His voice carries down the barren hallway, echoing, and he receives a startled half-yelp in reply. “Do not go back to sleep.”

A moment later, he hears shuffling steps emerge from the bedroom, a trudging prince appearing from the hallway and taking a seat at the kitchen island. Jewel-tone eyes watch as Ignis sets some rice to cook, and slips the fish into a small skillet. He then turns and fishes something out of the next bag and Noctis blanches as he makes direct eye contact with a bundle of carrots and a bag of peas. Ignis frowns at his expression, sighing.

“Come on Iggy, I have a big exam, and now you’re punishing me with vegetables?”

Ignis merely sets to work, slicing the carrots down and setting them and the peas. “I am aware of your exam, Noctis, that’s why I decided to prepare you a nice meal. It’s good to have a healthy, balanced breakfast before you take such a test.” He slides the rice off the burner, and replaces it with a second, small skillet and fills it with the vegetables and a few slices of onion. “Will you, at the very least, eat a few carrots?”

“…I guess.” Defeated, Noctis hangs his head low as Ignis spares a moment to turn around and face him, nodding his praise for listening. Blue eyes spy the apron tied over his adviser’s torso, and a mischievous sort of glint shimmers in them as he reads over the words on the fabric. Blissfully unaware of the plans formulating in the prince’s brain, Ignis turns back to the stove.

It isn’t much longer before the food is dished out onto two plates and placed down on the mostly-cleared dining table. Rice and vegetables had been mixed together, and then the strips of fish laid across the top on one side, and a small, hard-fried egg placed on the other. Ignis pulls out one chair, and gestures for Noctis to come sit. Once the prince is settled, he gently pushes him in, placing silverware by his hand, and then goes to take his own seat.

Noctis gently grabs him by the arm, stopping him in place, and, as he turns to look back at him in curiosity, he’s suddenly being pulled down a few inches so that the prince can place a gentle sort of kiss on his cheek. Delighted, he then watches as the ash-brunette’s face lights up with a dusty sort of blush that highlights his cheeks and brightens his eyes.

“Noctis! What was that for?” His voice is a near keen, and the college student in question merely gestures down to the mint-green apron still tied down over Ignis’s shirt.

“Kiss the cook.” He can’t hide or push down the grin blossoming across his lips. Ignis scoffs, untying the apron and tossing it informally across the back of one of the island’s stools.

“This is the last time I do anything nice for you.” Despite his tone of voice, the blush on his face betrays him as he averts his eyes to anywhere that isn’t the raven across the table. Noctis laughs as he begins to dig into his food.

The blush remains, even well after Ignis has finished his own plate, and instead has taken to busying himself with the dishes. “If I get a good grade on this exam, do I get a reward?”

Noctis barely has time to dodge as a flick of soapy water launches in his direction, laughing all the while.


	4. (Gladio/Prompto) Hell-on-Wheels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> o “Come here. Let me fix it.” Promptio; modern setting. In which Prompto is a college student who just accidentally found himself having broken his portfolio binder. A very kind (and hot, by the Six…) student from the cooking program catches the wipeout and lends a hand. 1806 words.

Friday morning, 11:30 AM, presentation day, that dreaded day of the semester where Prompto has to hand his portfolio over to his professor, and then hope and pray everything went well and he wouldn’t lose his nerve. He’s got his arms full of project assignments, all neatly packed into a folding binder, and a coffee in his hand, still gently steaming against the crisp winter air. Like a ribbon on the end of a baton, his flannel scarf billows behind him in the wind, as he steps carefully across the campus courtyard, as if he had the world’s most precious cargo in his hold.

From behind him, there was a string of curses, and suddenly it sounded as if there was something rolling directly towards him. He froze in place, peering over his shoulder, and then saw a rather large, metal cart, one of the ones from the cooking program, rolling towards him. With energy he didn’t think he could have after pulling an all-nighter, he yelped and jumped out of the way, but felt his hold loosening on his portfolio. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as he watched the binder, packed full of photos and graphic design projects, fall to the ground with a heavy _thunk_ , and then Hell-on-Wheels collided, full force, with the spine of the plastic binder.

With the resounding _CRACK_ of the binder, Prompto swore he felt his heart sink and shatter as well. He dropped to his knees, right hand still clutching his coffee, and his left pulling at his hair, as a wail ripped from his throat. “Noooo! My portfolio!” But the joke really did seem to be on him today, as Hell-on-Wheels then continued across the sidewalk of the courtyard, scraping, and squealing as it dragged the binder along under its front. Several other students hopped out of the way, a few narrowly avoiding, others full-on diving their way into the grass, still wet from the morning’s light snow, and then Hell-on-Wheels collided solidly into the curb across the way.

Prompto felt tears prick his eyes. What was he going to tell the professor? _“Hey, sorry teach, my portfolio got run over by Ifrit’s personal chariot? Mind if I get an extension?”_ He was ruined. Completely and utterly ruined. He was going to fail his class, and then he was going to lose the scholarship he had lined up, and then he was going to die. Yup. Exactly that, in that order. The letter would arrive in the mail of his scholarship being pulled for his dip in grades, and then Ramuh himself would just smite him right then and there at his mailbox with a rather-deserved strike of lightning from the heavens.

Someone jogged past him, and then there was a second at his side. A rough hand placed itself on his shoulder, and prompting his blue eyes to look away from the scene of the murder. He really hoped this was his professor, having seen the whole event fold out, and then forgive him, and give him an extension.

But then his eyes met the rugged features of a tattooed man, who was, most assuredly, not his professor, who was a gray, little woman at the ripe old age of seventy-eight. Oh, he could see the lightning striking him at this very moment. A tear rolled freely from his eye, down his cheek, and caught in his scarf.

“Are you okay? Did you get hurt?” The man asked, rough face softened with concern. Man, if he weren’t so upset in the moment, he’d surely be flustered by this guy’s good looks. Prompto shook his head, and then the man took his empty hand in his own and hauled him up onto his feet, combat boots clicking against the concrete sidewalk. “I’m really sorry about that. I warned Nyx to not let it go when we were taking it down the hill.”

Prompto felt his face steel itself and a frown settle into place. “Wait! That was you! You’re the reason that cart took out my portfolio! Dude! I worked all semester on that, and now it’s crushed under several pounds of metal and rage!”

He hadn’t meant to explode like that, and felt bad immediately as the tall brunette put his hands up in defense. “Woah, woah, it was an accident. Here, let’s go check it out. Is everyone else okay?” People had gathered around in the courtyard, watching the scene unfold. Everyone nodded in response, and then the brunette placed his hand against Prompto’s upper back, leading him towards where Hell-on-Wheels had come to its rather abrupt stop.

It’s reign of terror was short, but cruel. May it not rest in peace.

Kneeling by the cart’s side was another tall man, a hand running through his black hair as he examined the shattered remains of the portfolio. “Uh, is there a Prompto Argentum here?” He called out as he read over the name scribbled on the flap to the binder.

“Yeah, that’s me.” He replied meekly, raising his free hand as if he wanted to be called on. The older man held the corpse of Hell-on-Wheel’s first and only victim, and Prompto took it into his arms, cradling it with a shaky sort of half sob. “Aw, man… you were so young…”

“Nyx, you owe him an apology.” Stern, the brunette by his side crosses his arms and narrows amber eyes down at his, presumedly, friend. “That was his assignment the cart took out. You really shouldn’t have let go of the cart.”

“I know, I know,” Nyx started, standing back up, his height somewhere between his friend’s and Prompto’s. “I’m really sorry. If there’s anything I can do, just let me know.”

A mere, half-hearted nod was given in response, and Prompto turned away. “I think I can fix this. Time will just be tight.”

Before he could fully walk away and lick his wounds, there was a hand grasping at the back of his jacket. Looking back over his shoulder, he spied the amber-eyed hottie eying him down. He gulped; afraid he’d done something wrong. “Come here. Let me fix it.” He was then taken by the arm, and lead in the direction of the campus commons and the store, the other man calling over his shoulder back at his friend. “Nyx, you can handle the rest of this yourself!”

Prompto had been sat down at a round table in the commons, right outside the supplies store, and was told to wait for a moment. He wrung his hands nervously through his scarf and jacket, taking the occasional sip from his coffee until the older man returned. After only a few moments, the brunette remerged from the store’s doors, and took a seat across from the blonde. He then took hold of the broken remains of the old portfolio and started to, carefully, take it apart, mindful of the shards of plastic.

“Name’s Gladio, by the way.” He pries out the rubric and places it down to see what was needed and what can be salvaged from the wreckage. “I’m in the culinary programs.”

“I kinda figured as much, what with the cart attack.” Prompto replies with much more bite than he’d intended, but Gladio laughs all the same. Feeling his face heat at the sound, he begs to the Six that it’s not obvious. “I’m in graphic design, but I’m focusing mostly on photography.”

Gladio shrugs his jacket off as he works, revealing a skintight, sleeveless band tee, and soon he has every entry freed from their plastic confines, and sprawled out across the table haphazardly. “I can see that. I’ll be the first to admit I don’t know shit about this stuff, but you seem pretty good.”

Prompto has to use every fiber of his willpower to not stare at the brunette’s musclebound, tattooed arms as he moves the papers around, seemingly trying to put them back in the correct order. “T-thank you…” He manages out after a moment of, what he thinks, at least, awkward silence.

“Does anything look too damaged?” Gladio asks, after gently working a crease out of a short essay.

Shaking his head, the blonde checks a pile that the other man had already organized, swapping a few things here and there. “No, not too bad. I’m sure I can try to explain to my professor there was an, err, accident? Maybe if she sees the broken portfolio, she’ll believe me.”

“We can put it in a bag, so it doesn’t cut you.” Gladio stands up, and retreats back into the store for a moment, returning with a paper bag, and begins to carefully slide the broken binder inside. “There, hate to see you get hurt cause of Nyx’s stupidity.”

“Thanks!” Prompto beams up at him as the bag is set down on the round table, and then he’s gently sliding pages and prints into the folding binder given to him. This one’s black rather than the soft white the previous one had been, and he thinks it looks all the more professional. Gladio checks the time on his phone and gathers up his jacket.

Digging a small notepad out of his back pocket, and then a pen from one on the front of his pants, he scribbles something down, and tears the page away. He slips the lined note into Prompto’s palm, and then grins when the blonde looks up at him. “Text me when you get out of your presentation. We’ll get something to eat, on me, so that I can apologize properly.”

Spluttering, the smaller of the two waves his hands around. “Oh no, no, this is plenty enough! I think this apology suffices!”

Gladio threads one arm through his leather jacket, and shrugs it up onto his shoulder. “Okay, then consider it a date. Is it a crime I wanna see you again?”

Prompto near falls out of his seat. “W-wait, wait, a date, or a _date_?” He chokes out, feeling as if someone just lit his face on fire.

“Whichever you prefer. I’m not picky.” The brunette gives him a wink, and then backs away from the table, jacket zipping up. “My classes are over for the day. But if today doesn’t work, tomorrow is the weekend.”

“I, uh… Today works! I’ll text you as soon as I’m out!” Watching the hottest guy on campus walk away, down the commons, and out the door, Prompto suddenly feels very much like it was him who Hell-on-Wheels struck, and not his portfolio. He was in a coma, right? Dreaming? He definitely did not have a date with a hot dude today? No way, man!

An alarm went off in his jacket pocket, and he jumped in his seat, yelping. Ten minutes until his meeting! He had to finish this and get going again!


	5. (Gladio/Noctis) A Real Bad Case of the Mondays

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> o “I’ll walk you home.” Gladnoct; modern setting. Gladio loses the keys to his apartment, and, for once, Noctis saves him. 2060 words.

It’s been a strange sort of day thus far. To start off, he’d managed to burn not just the toast, but his eggs as well, and then shattered one of his glasses across the floor when he’d tried to grab a drink before he left his apartment for the morning. Next, he was over half an hour late to class due to some sort of freak accident with the metro scheduling, only to find a quiz had been sprung onto the class, and he’d just barely managed to fill it out fully within the time constraint. Then he’d found himself completely without his card when he’d went to get lunch, a panic starting over him before he slapped his own forehead in realization that he’d left it on his desk alongside his laptop after making a purchase last evening. And now this.

Gladio stares down at his keychain, finding a copy to his family’s house, and another to his bike, which was in the shop at the moment, but found an empty space where his apartment key normally hung. He throws his head back with a rumbling sort of groan, drawing several pairs of wide eyes from nearby students, though they were paid no attention.

Something taps his shoulder and he turns on his heels, coming eye-to-eye with nothing. “Down here,” he hears the bored voice of a high school friend, and his amber eyes flit down to see Noctis standing before him, a drinks in both hands, though he lazily slips from a straw pushed through the lid of the right cup. “You seem like you’re having a shitty day, huh?”

Gladio grunts, and gestures to have his friend come sit down with him at one of the chairs lining the main hall. Noctis thrusts a drink into his hands, and he accepts it gratefully. “You don’t know the half of it. Now I have to take the train all the way across town.”

Chewing on his straw, the freshman looks up at him curiously, and tilts his head to one side to let gravity pull his bangs from his view. “Why’s that? Is Iris okay?”

“Yeah, she’s fine,” Gladio sighs into the mouth of his cup, steeling himself to admit his foolishness, “but I lost my apartment key. My parents have a spare.”

He sees Noctis’s thin brows go up, though his expression remains as sleepily dignified as always. Little brat. “That’s all? Gladio,” the raven shifts in his seat, leaning down to grab his backpack, and rifles through the front pocket for a moment. Curious, the tattooed man leans in and, eventually, Noctis pulls back with a triumphant huff, holding up a small, familiar key. “I’ve still got the copy you gave me, for if Ignis or I ever had to stop by, remember?”

Signaling for his friend to give him a moment, Gladio shifts himself over, and all but screams into his cup. He’d given Noctis that key over a year ago! Back when he’d just moved in! Of course he’d forgotten! “Ooooh, Noct,” he leans back over and pulls the younger student into his arms, squeezing him in a bear hug, “I owe you one.”

Nonchalant, like it wasn’t the best news the brunette had gotten all day, Noctis merely shrugs, tossing his empty cup into the bin nearby. “It was Ignis’s idea to keep it on me anyways, so thank him.” He grabs his bag, clearly full of a multitude of textbooks and binders, and slings it over one shoulder, and then the next. “Come on, big guy, I’ll walk you home.”

There’s a metro station right by the college, and it drops them off several blocks away from Gladio’s apartment building. Noctis trails after him, his bag obviously beginning to take a toll on his bad leg, and as the brunette turns around to look at him, he can’t help but stare for a moment as the smaller man’s gait takes a turn for the worse.

With a sigh, he sets his own bag down at his feet, and waits for his friend to catch up. Noctis eyes him curiously from beneath messy locks, but, suddenly, he finds himself being stripped clean of his bookbag. Gladio shrugs it over his own shoulders, but so that it covers his front rather than his back, and then turns around, gesturing for the raven to climb aboard.

“No.” He hears the bored voice reply.

“Yes.” He says in return, and wiggles his fingers. “I’m not making you walk half a dozen blocks like that.”

Noctis rolls his eyes so heavily Gladio swears he can hear it, and then there’s the weight of another person scaling onto his back. Unsleeved arms wrap over his shoulders and around his neck, gently, and he places one arm under his friend to help secure him in place. With his free left hand, he scoops up his own backpack, and they continue down the street just like that.

The sun’s setting to their left, the light catching in a ring adorning Noctis’s hand, and Gladio feels the smaller student practically nuzzle his face into the crook of his neck. “Stay awake.” He taps his hand on Noctis’s leg, feels the shape of a knee brace under the fabric of his jeans. “You can take a nap at my apartment.”

They arrive, eventually, at his apartment building, and he crosses the main lobby still carrying Noctis on his back. He presses the elevator button with the knuckles of the hand currently occupied with his bag, and waits for it to arrive. Doors slide open to reveal one of his neighbors, hand-in-hand with her daughter, and they both eye him and his friend as he passes them by with a nod. Noctis keys in his floor number as they pass by the keypad, and lets out a soft chuckle at the expense of Gladio’s dignity.

Floor seven comes soon enough, and once they cross through the elevator doors once again, he deposits his friend to the floor, gently, and makes a playful bow at the door. “After you, mighty key-bearer.”

Noctis scoffs at him and twists the key in the lock, swinging the door open to reveal Gladio’s sparse living space. He immediately plops himself facedown onto the couch, snatching a blanket off the back, and cocooning himself in it. Shutting the door behind them, he hears the brunette let out a choked-sounding laugh, and then the thudding of his backpack against the coffee table. “What do you have in there, bricks?”

He’s ignored, not that he minds very much. After dealing with Noctis for six years, he’s become rather used to his strange conversation habits. Instead, he slips down the hall and locates his credit card on the desk pushed against the wall, pocketing it into his wallet. “Dude,” he hears the raven down the hall, “why’s it smell like something burned in here?”

“Breakfast.” Gladio replies, unhooking his wallet chain from his jeans and placing it on the tv stand. “Today sucked.” He takes a seat next to his friend, arm slung over the back of the couch and his legs spread out as he pulled out his phone.

“Keep your manspreading in check.” Noctis headbutts him in the thigh, though its half-hearted and diminutive. “You take up enough space as is.”

Gladio ignores him, objecting to, instead, flip the tv on. “Want me to order a pizza?” He says eventually. “I’m definitely in the mood for something greasy and some beers.”

“Got homework tonight. Besides,” Noctis rolls himself over, and sits up, though he never once lets the blanket go. “I’m still underage, remember? Not 21 until a few more weeks.”

That earns a scoff in reply. “When has that ever stopped you or Prompto before? Ignis finally starting to rub off on ya?” Gladio slings his arm down over his friend’s shoulders, pulling him closer, and rubbing his bearded chin against his messy black hair. He gets a muffled laugh in response.

“It’s not my fault Iggy’s such a mom. You’re lucky he’s not _your_ roommate.” Noctis finally lets the blanket go with one hand, and shoves his friend’s face away from his own head. Gladio relents, having succeeded in his plans. He snatches the freed corner of the cover, and pulls it over his own shoulders, then sets to work ordering dinner.

“What Specs doesn’t know won’t kill him. Maybe you could just stay with me until I get a new key.” He’d said it mostly as an absentminded joke, not as a serious sort of thing, so he doesn’t pay Noctis any attention when his head jerks up in surprise, clearly much more awake than he’d been mere seconds before. “Hey, whaddya want on your pizza? You better not say pineapple.”

He receives no answer, so he looks down to his right, and catches the sight of Noctis staring up at him, wide-eyed and the most awake he’d seen him since his freshman year of high school. “What? It was a joke; you can say pineapple if you really wanna.”

“It’s- uh,” the raven lowers his eyes away, seemingly nervous, “would really you let me stay over?”

“I mean, yeah? We’ve done sleepovers before.”

“But always with the others there!”

“Ooh, so it’s different if it’s just the two of us, huh? Noct’s got a crush or somethin’?”

Noctis hops to his feet at that, and it’s the first time Gladio’s ever seen blush on the guy’s face, his cheeks turning rosy. “What? No! I don’t have a crush on you! Haha, that’s such a dumb thing to think.”

He sets his phone down, order forgotten as he watches this scene unfold before him. “Oh yeah? So then, if I do this,” one hand caught with the raven’s, fingers interlocking, as a tattooed arm slithers its way around Noctis’s lithe hips, “you’d be completely unbothered?”

Blue eyes comically wide, the smaller man all but nearly jumps out of his skin. The way his blush is spreading, he looks like one of those old mercury thermometers, the red line rising up in the glass. “Y-yeah! Completely unbothered…”

His voice wavers a bit too much, and he knows it just as well as the brunette does. Gladio’s smirk widens across his lips, and his hand leaves Noctis’s, trailing upwards to catch a clean jaw, “what about this then,” and then he’s pulling the raven down towards his seated position as he, himself, leans forward. Amber eyes watch as blue ones somehow widen further, and then screw shut, and then their lips brush, ever so lightly, and Noctis swallows.

Gladio laughs and lets him go, grabbing his phone and switching the screen back on. Noctis splutters, swaying in his spot, and then he balls his hands at his side, and stomps one foot ever so slightly.

“You can’t just tease me like that, damn it!”

What a spoiled little brat. “Yeah?” Gladio pats his lap, holding his phone aside as the screen starts to timeout again. “Come and get it then.”

Everything about Noctis’s expression just reads _Challenge Accepted_ , and then he’s climbing onto Gladio’s lap, all shame somehow defeated. His slender hands place themselves on the brunette’s jaw, one on each side, and then he’s being pulled in close. Their lips meet once again, though, this time, it’s much more real than the previous, teasing brush, and Gladio can’t help but groan into it as Noctis settles himself on his lap, hips pressing down. He feels the raven’s lips smile against his own, and then he’s pulling back, looking every bit as proud of himself as he could.

“Pizza can wait, yeah?” He’s being pulled back down then, and feels Gladio grind upwards into him. “But nothing more than this, just for now.”

“You fuckin’ tease.” The older student nearly whines out, but he doesn’t fight it. He’d already pushed his luck to the test today. Noctis’s lips return to his own, and he tastes the vanilla chapstick he uses. Once they part again, he merely smiles, “I guess today isn’t _horrible_.”

Noctis laughs. “Happy to fix your Monday, Gladdy,” and then he’s descending again, thumbs caressing against that bearded chin, a soft sound slipping from his mouth as his friend wraps both arms around his hips and pulls him into place, like the final piece to a puzzle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one kinda got away from me and nearly got rather heated
> 
> Don't drink if you're underage kids


	6. (Ignis/Prompto) Surprise Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> o “Have a good day at work.” Promptnis; modern setting. Prompto tries to set up a birthday surprise, but it’s hard to do when his boyfriend is so damn observant. Plans have to be made way in advance. 3127 words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one. Really got away from me. I'm sorry?

It’s a typical morning, Ignis rolling out of bed an hour before his bedmate, before taking a quick shower, brushing his teeth after, and dressing himself. He’s pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose after placing two eggs on separate plates when he feels two arms snake around his waist, and the weight of a head leaning against his back. Fighting off the smile coming to his lips is nigh impossible, and he lets it settle into place as he takes a freckled hand into his own.

“Good morning,” he steadily greets, and then the other is gone from behind him, and sweeping around the island counter instead, coming to stand across from him, and he watches the blonde lean up, hands splayed out on the granite, before their lips brush. “Mm, you’re in an awfully pleasant mood this morning. Is it a special occasion?”

Ignis knows the answer fully, but he can’t help the curiosity over whether his boyfriend does as well. Prompto puts one hand to his chin, and gives it a solid thinking. “Hmm,” his eyes drift to the calendar displayed on the fridge and then knocks his hand, now balled into a loose fist, against his other palm, “oh, it’s a Friday! Weekend’s tomorrow! We’ll have to do something nice.”

One brow arches behind metal frames and Ignis’s smile falters. “Is that so? It’s merely Friday?” Prompto gives it a second thought, and then his blue eyes are widening in return to his boyfriend’s knowing nod.

“Oh man! That’s today! I’m so sorry, Iggy, I’d forgotten! I’ll get us something nice for dinner tonight, it’s the very least I can do for forgetting my own boyfriend’s birthday!” He exclaims as Ignis turns around, taking the plates in his hands, and slides a few slices of toast alongside the eggs. One plate is then slid into Prompto’s own hand, and they make their way to the table placed next to large, ceiling-to-floor windows.

“It’s rather alright.” He says, after breakfast has been eaten and cleaned up, both plates settled side-by-side in the washer, and then he’s grabbing his jacket from the hook by the door. “I’m simply happy you remembered.”

Ignis leans down a few inches, and Prompto stands up on the tips of his toes, tossing his arms around slim shoulders as their lips brush. It’s a short, simple affair, their kiss, and then the ash-brunette is slipping out the door, heeled shoes clicking down the complex’s hall. “Just leave dinner to me! Have a good day at work!” Prompto waves him off, and then shuts the door, smiling all the while. He turns around, leaning against the door as he slides his phone from his pocket and sends several rapid-fire texts. Then he taps the screen a few times and holds it up to his ear.

“Hey! We’re _so_ still on for tonight!”

Gladio is the first to arrive, half past ten, sporting several cases of various alcohols and a folding table. Iris bounces in place behind him, arms stacked up with bags of cooking supplies and several wrapped boxes. They’re quickly ushered in by the blonde, his voice hush-hush as if they had the biggest secret to keep in all of humanity’s existence. Soon, there’s a pile of various foods stacked up on the kitchen counter, the alcohol plopped down on the coffee table, and the oldest member of the room is unfolding the kickout table, his sister then gently placing the wrapped gifts on top. She beams back at Prompto, and then hops over to him.

“Luna and I baked a cake!” She tells him, proud, and folds her hands behind her back. “She’s on her way with it. I bet she’ll arrive before Noct does, just you watch!”

Gladio snorts from behind the archway joining the kitchen to the living room, a strangled sort of sound. “I’m sure everyone is gonna show up before His Royal Pain-in-the-Ass, Ignis included.” Iris turns on her heels, sticking her tongue out at him in response, and then she’s unpacking food item after food item. She waves Prompto over so that they can start a few dishes, and the older man disappears out the door, returning a few moments after with several more items in hand.

Prompto excuses himself, dipping into the living room and sees Gladio standing atop a short ladder, stringing streamers, and twinkling lights along the walls. He’s already strung up an over-the-top banner in the center of the room, labelled “HAPPY BIRTHDAY IGNIS” in bold, bubble letters that the blonde proudly registers of his own. Signatures line the paper, ranging from family, to friends, and even King Regis himself. Someone had taken glitter and traced the outside of the main lettering, and, presumedly, someone else had drawn a sequence of chocobos, lead by one sporting glasses akin to Ignis’s own, and the gaggle of smaller birds behind him each resemble various attendees of the night’s party. There’s a Kenny the Bird scribbled in the corner, by Noctis’s name, and a can of Ebony outlined in the top left.

He can’t help the way his heart swells at the love so obviously put into this banner.

There’s a knock at the door, and he jumps away from his thoughts, scrambling to open it once again. He’s admittedly a bit than more surprised to come eye-to-eye with a pair of blue, Noctis’s hand held up in preparation for a second round of knocking. “You’re here!” Prompto nearly yells, launching himself into a hug against his friend.

“Woah, careful!” Noctis sways, barely keeping himself upright. “Don’t make me drop the snacks.”

Hopping back, Prompto mutters out an apology, and then he steps out of the way to let the raven into the apartment. “Gladio and Iris are already here,” he says, taking a bag from his friend’s hands as he kicks his shoes off by the door, “I think she’s making a buncha stuff, you might get put to work.”

“And here I was hoping to take a nap.” Noctis ignores Gladio’s look of shock when he steps into the room and plops a black giftbag onto the table alongside the start of a respectable pile. “Dad sent me to pickup some cupcakes he’d ordered for the party, and I grabbed the chips and dip like you asked.”

“The veggie platter too?” Prompto asks, peering down into the bag he’d been handed, spying the case of small, two-bite cupcakes.

Noctis cringes and then holds up one of the reusable bags in his hands, defeated. “Yeah… I thought about _forgetting_ , don’t be fooled.” The bag is taken from him, and Prompto frees the round tray from the bag, sliding it into the fridge for safe keeping alongside the tub of dip. Gladio rolls his eyes, securing what appears to be the last string of lights into place, and then nudges the raven in the direction of the kitchen to go assist his sister.

Noon rolls around, and then, for the third time today, there’s another knock at the door. This time, it’s opened up to reveal Lunafreya, hand-in-hand with Nyx, who’s grasping the handle of a round container in his other hand, Crowe waving from behind him, and Libertus in tow, his boot _thunk-thunk_ -ing on the floor as he limps up to the group on his crutches. Cindy’s coming up behind them, just a few steps behind, arms full of gifts.

Prompto lets them in with a mock bow, receiving a curtsy in return from Luna. They both giggle at one another, and then he hears Cindy greeting Iris with a surprised squeak and her charming drawl. Before he can even shut the door, Cor and Monica are exiting the elevator just down the hall. “Man, it’s definitely gonna be a full house!” He exclaims as he they pass him as well. “We’ve still got a few more hours to prepare! Ignis won’t be back until four!”

Before long, Luna, Iris, and Nyx are cooking up a storm, various dishes beginning to line the counters and island. He catches them chatting about some of the guests yet to arrive -Ravus’s name is tossed around a few times- and what gifts they’d gotten for Ignis as he collects the paper plates and throwaway cups from a bag Crowe had placed down. He turns around, and catches sight of Cindy sitting backwards in one of their dining chairs, chatting away with Cor. Noctis is sprawled across the loveseat in an undignified sort of position, snoring away, and Gladio has the ladder folded up in his hands as he steps towards the hallway closet. Libertus and Crowe sit on their balcony, the former idly taking a drag from a cigarette between his fingers.

Prompto takes a second glance up at the banner overhead and smiles. Ignis was gonna love all this, he’d just have to!

By the time the clock had struck 3:30, Prompto and Cor had ushered everyone into the combined dining and living space, telling them to stay quiet, and to pull the blinds shut. Libertus slid the dip and veggie tray into place on the coffee table, giving a thumbs up to the blonde as he sat down.

“Alright, so that’s everything?” Noctis says through a yawn, stretching his arms up over his head. “Cake’s in place?”

“Sure is!” Cindy replies, chipper as always, and pops the lid off the round container to reveal a short, round cake decorated with slices of strawberries and white icing.

“Confetti cake,” Luna whispers up at him, “and there’s a second in the fridge that Crowe made, in case we all want seconds.”

Man, he really did have to appreciate all the thought the others put into this. When he’d sprung the idea of a surprise birthday party for Ignis, he’d half expected to be laughed out of the room, but it had seemed that everyone loved the idea of catching Mister Know-It-All off guard. “And the drinks?” Prompto questions, and then sees Iris from the corner of his view gesture with wide arms to the wide array displayed out across their dining table, pulled out to the maximum length, and extra chairs added.

Monica is by the gift table, neatly organizing them by size and giver, and he suddenly remembers that he’d nearly forgotten two very important things. “Noctis! Can you go back to the guest room and grab a little, wrapped box from the top drawer?” The raven groans and rolls to his feet, trudging down the hall with great effort. Prompto then turns the tv on and connects his phone to the screen, muting the sound as he starts a video of multitudinous photos he’d snapped over the years, all of Ignis, either by himself or alongside various friends. He looks over at the others, expression begging for an opinion, and he receives a resounding chorus of approval. Just as he launches into a fist pump, he hears a key jostle in the front door, and he hushes everyone, switching the lights off as he rushes to the apartment entrance.

“You’re back!” He exclaims, jumping up to grab Ignis into a full-body hug, earning a surprised grunt in response. “I missed you!”

Ignis looks a bit taken aback, though he tries to hide it behind pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. However, he still offers a little chuckle, and scoops Prompto up into a gentle hug, and then a kiss on his brow. “I was gone the same length of time I always am.” He sets the little blonde back down before taking his shoes off, though his eyes narrow as he notices a pair too many.

There isn’t enough time to give it thought before Prompto is grabbing his arm to spin him around, and then he’s reaching up to cover his eyes with one hand, the other taking his own as he leads him through the entryway and towards the living room. “I’ve got a little surprise for you,” the blonde singsongs, and he immediately starts to suspect Noctis is here as well, but then there’s the sound of the lights being flicked on, the hand slowly removing itself from his view.

He expects to see two pairs of blue eyes on him, and maybe an added pair of amber ones, not an entire room full of his friends. There isn’t even a slim possibility that he could have held back the surprised gasp that slipped from his lips, and then everyone’s throwing their hands into the air, calling out a choir of “Happy birthday!”

Noctis’s voice meekly joins in at the end as he shuffles by, like a child caught in the act of something shameful, and he adds a small box to the table lined up near the balcony door. Ignis watches them all, green eyes blinking as if it were all some sort of strange hallucination, that he’d merely fallen asleep at his computer.

But his vision never once falters, even after he removes his glasses, wipes them off, and puts them back on. “Oh my,” he finally manages and earns a collection of stray chuckles from various members, “this is wonderful!”

It’s then that he scoops Prompto up for a second time, though it’s this instance that he delivers a swift kiss to his lips, and then gently sets him back down. “You had this planned this whole time, hadn’t you?”

“Sure did! Got you good this morning, didn’t I?” Hand-in-hand, the blonde leads him closer to the group, and he catches a few of the images on the tv screen, recognizing them all as Prompto’s work. “Come on, let’s get the party started!”

After having his moment’s fill of socialization and food, Ignis had taken to the balcony for a moment, a glass of wine in his hand, and Prompto’s smaller one in the other. He sips from it idly, listening to the chatter from inside his apartment. Iris is reading aloud a prompt from a party game, the answer Libertus had given, and then the correct one. It’s widely off, and the room erupts into laughter.

Ignis smiles, and takes a short sip from his glass, turning around to lean against the balcony railing, face towards his boyfriend. “The evening has been rather wonderful, Prompto, thank you.” He gently brushes a few stray locks of blonde hair away from beautiful blue eyes, and leans down to place a kiss on the ridge of his nose. “I don’t think I could have asked for anything more.”

“You haven’t even opened the gifts yet!” Prompto says, practically vibrating in place. He turns his own face upwards, trying and succeeding to catch Ignis’s soft lips in his own, and then pulls back to look up at him through light lashes.

“I have everything I need right here,” the ash-brunette replies calmly, unwilling to give away even the slightest bit of the desire he feels at the moment.

His boyfriend laughs, giving him a gentle, teasing shove. “You’re so corny. Once you’re all good to rejoin the festivities, tell Luna. We’ll cut the cake and start the gifts!”

“Only if I get to unwrap you after the others head home.” The blush that takes over Prompto’s freckled features doubly make up for the silly string of words he’d just uttered. “I’ll be back in after I finish this glass.”

He stayed true to his word, expertly maneuvering himself around the table stacked with gifts, and sought out Lunafreya, the small woman sitting side-to-side with Cindy at the dining table, both laughing about something he’d missed. “Miss Nox Fleuret,” he offers her a curt bow, “I was told to find you when I was ready to open gifts.”

She hops to her feet, clapping her hands together. “Wonderful! Let’s get started then!”

Among the list of gifts, he’d been given a rather nice dress shirt by Noctis’s father, a cookbook from Iris -she claimed it’d taken her some time to save up for, and he immediately cherished it- as well as a necklace from Lunafreya. Prompto had snatched the small box he’d noticed Noctis set down earlier after his arrival, and held it behind his back until the rest of the gifts were opened.

It was slipped into his hand then, after he’d finished thanking Crowe for the handmade throw blanket she’d made with their décor in mind, recalling the time he’d mentioned how difficult it was to find matching items at times, and Prompto watched with an excited aura radiating from him. He couldn’t help the way his brow arched at his boyfriend’s behavior, though he opted out of commenting to instead pull the wrapping paper away. Inside was a plain black jewelry box, and he flipped it open, brows immediately drawing close as he looked to the blonde curiously. “Is it meant to be empty?”

Instead of meeting blue eyes, he instead met empty air. Someone by his side let out a quiet gasp, Iris squealing softly. Confused, he took a look around before he thought to look down, and there he was faced with Prompto, down on one knee, and it was his turn to gasp. A small, silver ring glinted in his grasp, the twinkling fairy lights strung around the room catching in the gemstone extravagantly.

“Ignis,” the blonde starts, looking every bit as nervous as he had on their first date, “you mean the world to me. I would give away everything if it meant you were happy, so, will you do me the honors, and marry me?”

The empty box fell from his hands, forgotten, as one hand moved to cover his mouth in surprise, and he began to nod, unable to choke out even a single word. Finally the ability returned to him as Prompto blinks up at him, wide-eyed and tears of joy at the corners of his blue eyes. “Yes,” he manages, “a thousand times, yes,”

And then the room erupts into a roar, Nyx hooting and hollering as Noctis is pulled into a tearful embrace by Gladio. Prompto takes his hand and slips the ring onto his finger, hopping to his feet when Ignis spares a moment to look at it closer. Rather than a traditional diamond, an emerald is fitted into the ring, glimmering and glinting every bit as beautifully. There’s a gentle touch to his face, wiping away a tear he hadn’t even realized had fallen, and then Prompto’s pulling him down into a kiss.

Once they pulled away, the blonde held his hand, the one with the ring, up over their heads, and exclaimed triumphantly to the world: “He said yes!” The room erupts once more, Ignis spying even Ravus clapping enthusiastically, and then Prompto calls out once again. “Now, who wants cake?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll try to stop updating so quickly like this. I'm gonna hold off until I get up to 10 done, and then I'll do updates in intervals of 5.


	7. (Polyship) Getaway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> o “I dreamt about you last night.” Glad/Iggy/Noct/Prom; modern setting again (‘cause I just love me a modern/college setting, call it projecting). The boys have been kept apart for just a bit too long. 2956 words.

None of them were particularly sure when it had all started, their strange relationship, that is. They all went on dates, either as duos, even trios at times, though that was rare, mostly done when someone was busy, and then as a group of four. Noctis and Ignis had an apartment to themselves, and Prompto and Gladio lived on their own, but at the rate they spent going between each other’s places, staying the night in each other’s beds, they may as well all live together. It would certainly save money on rent at the very least.

But, as of late, Noctis had been waking to an empty bed, devoid of even the presence of his oldest friend and roommate. Sometimes their dog is on the foot of the bed in the morning, but he never stays for very long after the raven wakes up and gropes blindly for his phone, starting his 10 AM routine.

Ignis has been held up in work, both of the job and class kinds, and, subsequently, has been pulled away from their apartments for most of the day, and week for that matter. Prompto wasn’t much better off, spending most of his time studying with midterms coming up. Gladio was the one he’d heard from most in the past few days, though that was limited as well, the oldest of the group taking up extra shifts to pay for some damage done to his bills by a minor accident.

(They’d all worried about him then, but he’d come out fine enough, just with some road burns, scrapes, and bruises. His bike had taken the brunt of it. Ignis was glad he’d convinced him to wear his leather jacket despite the heat that day.)

Noctis rolls over, unsurprised to already find it empty. Ignis left hours ahead, taking a quick shift before running off to his classes, and then back to work. He knew that his father would help if they asked, rent had just been rough the last few months, but Iggy said it was the principle of it. They’d save that for a real emergency.

Sliding out of bed, a shiver shook his frame ever so gently as his bare feet met the cold hardwood floor of their bedroom. There was a pile of neatly folded clothes atop their shared dresser with a note on top,

“ _Have a good day in class!_ ”

He scoffs and pulls the shirt over his uncovered shoulders, then the pants, and a pair of socks. Beneath the clothes laid a simple, black knee brace, and Noctis paused to give it thought before sweeping it into his hands. Better safe than sorry, he supposed, stuffing it into the front pocket of his bookbag.

Their dog, Ebony, a massive pile of drool and black fur, lays by the couch in his bed, only lifting his head when the raven pours a cup of dry food into his bowl. “You be good,” he calls over to the dog from the kitchen. A neighbor would stop by and take the dog out for a bathroom run around noon, so Noctis shrugs the strap of his bookbag over one shoulder, and he’s out the front door then, on his way to the classic model Regalia parked in the front row.

With a grunt and a thud, the bag is thrown into the front passenger seat, and then he climbs into the driver’s side. The engine turns over with a soft roar before he’s backing out of their parking spot, pulling out of the lot soon after, set on his path to the campus.

He’s tired by the time his class lets out, so much so that he nearly misses Prompto when he comes bounding up, arms stretched out in a hug, “Noct!” An attempt is made to brace himself, but they both still sway when they collide. Prompto lets out a giggle, placing a warm kiss on the raven’s lips, a welcome contrast to the chilly afternoon. “I dreamt about you last night!”

Noctis arches a brow. “Oh? A dirty kind of dream?” His voice is nothing if not teasing and the blonde shoves his shoulder. It’s his turn then to laugh, ruffling feathery hair. “Just messing with ya.”

“It was about all of you, actually,” they both were fully aware who _you_ referred to in this circumstance, “we all were living together! Just the six of us, our dogs were there too, in a nice house with a pool.”

“Sound nice.” He slides his hand into place with Prompto’s, swinging it a bit as they start towards the parking lot. It’s muscle memory at this point, the way to his usual parking place. “But nice houses with pools are a lot of money, Prom, and we’re all struggling with apartment rent.”

Prompto puffs up at that, sticking his tongue out. Noctis has half a mind to grab it, but settles, instead, for a kiss to the shorter man’s cheek. “I know that! But a guy can dream, right!” They’ve arrived at his car before long, and he throws his bag into the backseat, the blonde following suit. He opens the shotgun door, “why thank you,” Prompto says with a mock bow as he settles into place, seat belting himself down.

Noctis is in the driver’s seat soon after. “Maybe one day, huh? For now, let’s focus on getting paid.” Their hands cross once again as he pulls out from the lot, destination set at Prompto’s job.

Midterms pass without a hitch, spring break starting immediately after for Insomnia University. Prompto is a worried, panicking mess by the front doors, holding tight to Gladio’s leather-clad arms, crying out about his fears for the grades. The oldest of their moresome is running a hand through blonde locks, whispering down his affirmations.

“Wanna grab a warm drink?” Noctis asks as he approaches. “We can grab Ignis once he gets out, and swing by the café down the road. Hot chocolate always makes you feel better.”

Prompto’s blue eyes are watery, but he nods all the same, the idea of spending time with his boyfriends beating back his fears. He holds out a freckled hand and Noctis takes it, the two of them leading Gladio in tow as he swings his over-the-shoulder bag into place.

Ignis had promised to clear the day to optimize their time together during the break, and he held true to it, his phone up to his ear as he walked down the hall towards them. “No, no, I unfortunately cannot take any unscheduled shifts this day, nor for the rest of the week. I have made these plans quite some time in advance. The schedule is inflexible.”

They hang back, giving him a moment as the conversation furthers. It’s clear the person on the other side of the line is fed up with his unavailability, but he merely apologies one final time and says his goodbyes, pocketing his phone immediately after. Prompto offers him a small thumbs up in question. When he receives a curt nod in response, he bounds up to him, and hops to pull him into a hug. It’s obvious Ignis catches the way his eyes are still a bit puffy from the previous tears, and that his face is reddened as well from the same reasoning, the light-brunette catching him with both arms around his torso, and holds him close.

“Coffee?” Noctis asks once he and Gladio approach, and they receive a gentle nod in return. Ignis keeps the blonde in his arms as they start back down the hall and out the door, headed to the Regalia parked in the second to front row. Prompto is set down once they reach the sidewalk, gently persuaded to start walking with a kind hand on his back.

Ignis fishes around in his pocket for a moment before he pulls the keys free and presses a button to put the convertible roof down. Gladio climbs over the back door, seating himself in the rear right seat, ignoring the indignant huff he receives from the younger brunette. He responds with a mischievous grin that’s directed, originally, at the second oldest man, and then it drifts over to Noctis, who merely returns the expression and then copies his previous action.

“Noctis Lucis Caelum! Might I remind you that this car is from your father.” Ignis scolds, and Prompto sniggers as he climbs into the other backseat.

“Dude, you just got full-named.” He shoves the raven’s shoulder, and then catches the frown he’s given by the brunette and yelps. “Sorry, Igster!”

Before long, the car’s in drive and cruising down the road at an even speed. Light conversation fills their ride, though it’s mostly playing catch-up. Gladio assures the others he’s healing up fine, and that he’ll have his bike back before the end of spring break. Prompto says he’s quit one of his jobs in a fantastic show of backbone against his bully of a manager, and the car erupts into a chorus of cheers. Ignis is more than happy to inform that his final semester is on the perfect rode to success. Noctis wouldn’t have had something to say anyways, but is interrupted regardless by his phone ringing in his side pocket.

He answers it as the car comes to a halt at a red light, his companions politely quieting themselves as he says a simple: “Hey Dad,” in greeting. “Everything alright?”

 _“Noctis,”_ the muffled voice of his father can be barely heard by the others before the light turns green and the car’s moving again, _“I’m sorry for the last minute warning, but pack your things! Your friends as well! I’ve scheduled a vacation for us in Altissia.”_

The raven splutters. “Altissia? Where’d this come from?”

 _“Lunafreya invited us. Isn’t it wonderful? Altissian springs are simply beautiful.”_ Regis sighs wistfully. _“She wishes to catch up with you, it has been years since you last saw each other,”_

“Yeah, it was after my accident.” Noctis nods, though his fatherly clearly can’t see it from the other side of the line. “Sounds like a plan, Dad. I’ll tell the others. We’re in the car at the moment, Iggy’s driving.”

He holds the phone out. “Hello, sir.” Ignis says, eyes never once leaving the road, and then he pulls it back to his ear.

_“Ah! I’ll leave you to it then. But, before I go, Clarus wishes for you to take his daughter as well.”_

“Babysitting on vacation? Fiiine, but if she gets in trouble, that’s not on me.” Regis hangs up, and Noctis leans back in his seat, sighing. “Guys, we’re going on vacation to Altissia.”

Prompto fist pumps in the backseat. “Oh yeah! I’m gonna take so many cool pictures!”

And, so, that was how they found themselves across seas in Altissia the very next day. They arrived at the vacation house they’d been provided a few hours before sundown, the weather already noticeably warmer than that in Insomnia. Gladio had abandoned his shirt at some point of unpacking, claiming it was to keep his tan even, but the other three knew it was mostly due to the fact he liked when they’d stare at his muscles and tattoos. Showoff.

A nice sea breeze carries through the open windows of the house, the crashing of ocean waves gentle in the distance. The property was settled right on the beach, stilted up high to avoid flooding, but there were stairs down to the sandy shores below. Fences lined a portion of the front yard, and Ebony and Pyrna barking and yipping as they played within their safety. Right next door was a smaller beach home, the sound of Iris and her friend’s laughter carrying through.

Ignis folds back the top covers of the bed, a gentle smile gracing his lips at the sound of childish joy, having just finished making it. Noctis couldn’t bear sleeping without an old, black blanket, so he’d taken the liberty of putting it on the second to bottom layer, just above the sheet, and set higher up than it so that the raven could readily fold it up in his arms as he always did. And then, Prompto had a weighted blanket that he’d placed in the center of the bed, where he knew the blonde would be sleeping. He hears a knock on the open door as Gladio alerts his arrival before coming up behind him, arms wrapping around his waist.

“You should smile more often, you look beautiful.” His voice is a low sort of growl that always made Ignis feel like prey in all of the best ways.

“Perhaps you three should give me something to smile about more often, then.” Ignis knows, despite his harsh words, the dark-haired man knows him too well to take any offense in it. Instead, he turns the shorter man around to face him, and grasps his hips with both hands.

A nip is set against his jaw, “oh yeah? Lemme start right on that, then,” Gladio rasps as the ash-colored-brunette hisses in reply to the way he grinds against him. He slips one hand under a well-toned rear and slides the shorter man back onto the bed.

Something creaks the floorboards behind them and they both turn, startled, and spy the other half of their foursome, both sets of blue eyes wide, and their hands quickly raising into the air. “By all means,” Noctis starts, “don’t let us disturb you. We were just gonna grab our swim trunks.”

Ignis groans, though this time it’s in despair, and pinches the bridge of his nose, pushing his glasses upwards. It was safe to say the moment had been sufficiently lost for him, being so thoroughly startled as he had. “We can finish this thought later,”

Gladio sighs, releasing his near-bruising hold on the smaller brunette and takes a seat next to him on the bed. “Alright,” his arms cross, and both of the younger men look sheepish, “you two owe me big.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Noctis waves his hand, dismissive, and shimmies out of his cargo shorts and into a pair of swimming ones.

“We’ll pay you back double tonight, big guy.” Prompto swears, leaning in to place a kiss on the older man’s lips. His apology seems to be enough as the brunette huffs, nods his head ever-so-slightly and deepens the kiss, gruff hand tangling in golden locks.

Ignis stands to dig his own swim wear out from his mostly-unpacked bag. “More like we’ll pay you back triple,” he laughs quietly, and the blonde squeaks in surprise.

Prompto points one finger at him, jumping in place. “You made a joke! I didn’t think you had it in you, Igster!”

“You’ve known each other since high school, I’m sure you’ve heard him joke before. You probably just didn’t know it.” Noctis mutters, sounding as bored as always. “Ignis’s sense of humor is reaaaalll dry.”

There’s a little roll of green eyes, and he is unbuttoning his shirt with steady hands. “Will you be joining us, Gladio?”

The older brunette nods in a stern sort of manner they’ve all become used to, standing to place his hands between Ignis’s own, and he starts undoing the buttons for him. Ignis straightens his back, leaning his head back to allow for better access. Gladio can’t resist, and takes the opportunity to nip at his jawline again. “Let me bring the dogs in, and I’ll come out and join ya.”

Still wet and dripping seawater, three of the four them sat up on the porch, wrapped up in towels. Prompto has himself settled on Gladio’s lab, snuggled close as if leeching his warmth, and offered peppered kisses in exchange. Ignis could be heard from inside the kitchen through the screen sliding door, finishing up dinner and dividing it onto four plates.

Noctis stood from his chair, and the blonde scootched himself over for him to join, Gladio grunting softly as another hundred-and-something pounds was added to him. “Brats,” he manages out, though his pride doesn’t let him complain further, and the two paperweights on his lap giggle between themselves.

As Ignis slides the back door open, Pryna scuttles out onto the porch with them. He balances the plates in his arms as Ebony follows out at a leisurely pace, and then closes the door shut behind him with his hip. “Let the man breathe.” He scolds, motioning for Noctis to stand before he hands him a plate.

Prompto is then picked up by the oldest man of the group, and placed in a chair by his side. They’re both handed their own plates and silverware, and Ignis takes his seat between the blonde and Noctis.

They sit, watching the sun set against the sea, as they eat their dinner. Noctis leans back in his chair, pushing a slice of spinach across his plate idly. “So, Prom,” the blonde looks up from the breaking waves and tilts his head, “remember a few days back when you said you had a dream about us? Living in a house, just the six of us, with a pool? Was it anything like this?”

Prompto laughs. “You remembered that?” He takes a bite of fish, still chuckling, before he leans back as well, and swallows. “Yeah,” watching the wind catch in the other three’s hair like invisible fingers, twisting and turning the various shades against the sunset, he can’t help but smile. His fingers grasp for the camera sitting on the little table between him and Gladio, and he exchanges it for his near-finished plate of food. Setting up the shot, he leans back again. “It was a lot like this.”

The camera’s shutter sounds off, the scene before him committed to film memory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another one that got away from me, aaa


	8. (Gladio/Ignis) Blindsight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> o “Take my seat.” Gladnis; post chapter 9. Gladio worries over Ignis after he loses his sight. 873 words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much hurt, little comfort

Only two days have passed since Lunafreya’s death, Noctis still bundled up under heavy blankets, resting only in a fitful sleep. Gladio sat by the bedside, head in his hands, drumming his fingers against his skull every so often, just to make sure he was still feeling something other than this consuming dread. Something shuffled behind him from behind the closed door, prompting him to turn around in the tall chair, catching sight of the door swinging open, and there was Ignis, clutching the doorknob tightly in his hand.

His hair was unmade, creating a loose frame around his face, though Gladio still catches sight of the freshly-obtained scars across his eyes and nose. He clears his throat, alerting his presence, and the younger brunette freezes for a moment before he speaks, “what are you doing up?” Concern is unbridled in his voice, all ability to hold his emotions down out the window.

“I couldn’t sleep any longer.” Ignis says, simply, as if everything was the same. As if he wasn’t swaying in place, with steps much too small, as he takes his time closer, hands catching over the dresser by the wall, guiding himself closer to the voice he’d heard. “How is Noctis?”

Of course he was more worried about their king. Why wouldn’t he be?

Gladio stands from the high-backed chair, and gently takes the younger man’s hand into his hold. “Here,” he’s guiding him, carefully, with his other hand on his hip, “take my seat.” Ignis feels around behind him for the edge of the seat, finding it with a loose grip, and backs one leg against it, that hand sliding to an armrest, before he sits with some minor difficulty.

There’s scraping as the Crownsguard pulls a second chair to the bedside and returns himself to a sitting position. “You didn’t answer my question.” Ignis says. He grasps blindly towards where the sound had come from, finding Gladio’s hand after a moment, holding it tight.

“He’s fine. Still sleeping.” The king’s shield rubs his thumb against the hand in his grasp, tries to ignore the way his heart lurches when Ignis sighs with relief, shoulders dropping ever so slightly. There are no glasses on his face, and he looks so strange. Brow is creased with worry, his lips set into a thin line, scars dancing across his face.

They both couldn’t bear the thought of an empty crown, it seemed.

“Then, how are you holding up?” Ignis asks after an uncomfortably long moment of silence. “Were you hurt at all?”

Gladio stays quiet for a second longer, merely breathing softly as he tries to bring the words to his lips. “Just scrapes and bruises,” he feels lucky, and insignificant, his injuries nothing compared to what they could have lost. What they _did_ lose. “Nothing to worry about. Prompto is fine too.”

“We’ve already spoke.” Of course they did, it would explain how Ignis had found his way to the room.

“I’m glad you’re alive.” Gladio tells him. _I’m glad you’re alright_ hangs on his tongue, but he can’t bring himself to say it. He knows none of them are alright. They won’t be for quite some time. “You scared me.”

Those final three words make Ignis flinch, as if he’d just been struck. “I hadn’t meant to,” the ash-brunette says, voice wispy, like a spirit fading into the air, “I hadn’t intended to cause any worry.”

It hurts Gladio more than he’d care to admit, and he draws his hand away. “We can’t just glimpse over it, Ignis,” he looks away, back towards the sleeping king, and tries to ignore the way his friend’s shoulders set back, like he’s ready to run or fight. “What even happened?”

“I can’t quite speak on it yet,” the adviser says, hands folded into his lap. “I’m still processing it.”

He doesn’t push it any further, knows when Ignis doesn’t want to talk. They’ve been friends for years, learned how to read each other. So, instead, they sit there in silence, the only sounds the overlapping breaths from the three of them and the occasional strangled noise from Noctis’s throat as he dreams, brows drawing close, hands clenching the bedsheets.

Ignis’s fingers grasps for his own again, catching nothing but empty Altissian air once, twice, and then there’s gruff fingers interlocking with his, and he lets out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding, chest near heaving. “Gladiolus,” his voice is just above a whisper, and he feels the presence of amber eyes on him, “will you still stand by me, even if my sight never returns? Even if I cannot manage to keep up?”

Gladio’s breath hitches, and he stands from his chair, taking great care to never once seem like he’s trying to pull away. The fingers of his free hand drift across a clean jaw, then upwards to brush ash-brown locks away from the adviser’s face, tucking what he can behind an ear, and he leans down to place a kiss against his left brow, above where the worst of the scarring had settled. “I’ll never leave your side, Iggy. You’re stuck with me.”

A strangled laugh pulls from Ignis’s throat, sounding somewhat mixed with a sob. “Thank you,”


	9. (Gladio/Noctis) Just Desserts - Explicit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> o “I saved a piece for you.” Gladnoct; prior to the game. Noctis’s unscheduled naps lead to him missing out on things occasionally, but, thankfully, Gladio’s always got him in mind. 2008 words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's where the rating goes up.
> 
> I am. So full of shame.

Noctis stretches, arms extending high over his head, as he trails down the hallway, stopping momentarily to peer at the clock mounted on the wall, only 7:17 in the evening. He’s dressed in nothing but an oversized black sweatshirt and underwear, not that his briefs are visible past the bottom of his shirt. Rubbing his eyes, he steps into the living room, and finds that the lamp between the matching loveseat and couch set is already on. Briefly he wonders if he’d left it on by accident, but then he catches sight of a shadow, and he nearly jumps out of his skin as he prepares to summon a weapon.

“Woah there, killer,” the voice is immediately recognized as Gladio, and he lowers his hand, opting to instead cross his arms over his chest. “I’m just stopping by with a special delivery. We all decided to go out for desserts, but a certain prince was napping. I saved a piece for you.”

The prince in question puffed up in defense at first, but when it was revealed Gladio had thought to bring something by for him, his shoulders relaxed, and his stance went to a casual one. “You’re the best, Gladdy,” he rubs his greedy little hands together, “whatcha bring me?”

“Carrot cake.” Noctis knows he’s joking, but pales anyways, and puts a hand on his hip. Gladio rolls his eyes and takes a seat on the couch, foot lightly tapping on the floor. He fishes his phone from his pocket, typing out a text, most likely to Ignis.

“I think I’d much rather have a different sort of dessert, if that’s the case.” That pulls his attention away from the screen of his phone, and the brunette arches one brow. Noctis smirks, knowing full well that he’s got the Crownsguard’s undivided attention.

Gladio puts his phone on the coffee table, face down, and reclines in his seat, legs spread. “Oh?” He pats his lap and doesn’t have to persuade the prince any further. Noctis was upon him quickly, climbing onto him, a leg on each side of his lap, and presses his face into his chest, a sound that is suspiciously close to a purr escaping him. “Are you going to enlighten me further?”

Noctis huffs and leans back. “Don’t rush me,”

“Forgive me, your majesty,” the Crownsguard teases, advancing upon him in his retreat, cupping the back of his head with his hand, the other clutching at a hip, “by all means, continue.”

There’s a noise of utter frustration from the prince at his words, but it’s cut short when his shield reaches forward and presses a firm kiss to his lips. They remain like that for a long moment, a mixture of meshing mouths and breathless sounds, Noctis’s smaller hands settling along the waistline of the older man’s pants before his fingers start to wrestle with the belt buckle. It’s quite the battle, and it earns a laugh before the raven tries to break the kissing session short, but Gladio’s hands catch in his obsidian locks, clutching tightly and pulling his head back to expose the pale flesh of his neck.

Teeth scrapes his skin, eliciting a sharp hiss, and then Gladio pulls away, releasing his grip entirely. He sways for a moment, nearly toppling from the sudden lack of firm hands holding him in place before he hears the light _clink-clink_ of metal. It’s heard again soon after as the belt is tossed aside, becoming forgotten quickly. Rough, weapon-worn hands take his own and guide them downwards, placing them on the button of his shield’s jeans, and blue eyes catch amber ones. Gladio’s smirk makes a return, gesturing for him to continue, as if daring for him.

Noctis takes the silent bet, though embarrassment stains his face pink.

His fingers wrestle with the button for a moment, body shivering as Gladio runs his hands down his bare legs, still astride him, and he nearly makes a noise of triumph when the round metal pops free of its securements. They separate for a split moment as the brunette lifts him with one arm, shimmying out of his pants and underwear with some difficulty. Noctis laughs at him, “need some help there, big guy?” Such bravery is rewarded with a swat to the rear and he yelps, though it’s mostly just surprise.

“You’re such a fuckin’ brat.” Two thumbs hook themselves into the elastic of his briefs, one on each side, and then the swordsman yanks them down, his prince assisting as best he can from his position. One foot slips free and Gladio leaves them just like that, much too distracted with more pressing matters. His hand wraps around both of their cocks, pressing them together, and Noctis lets out a sound he can’t quite place as he lets his forehead bump against a tattooed shoulder.

“And you’re a tease!” He earns a mere huff in reply. Gladio’s hand begins to move in a restrained pace, slow and controlled. Noctis makes an attempt to roll his hips into the touch, though his only response is the movement stilling to a halt and a second, harsher smack to his ass. Without his briefs to soften the blow, he feels the skin-on-skin contact sting, and he whimpers into Gladio’s shoulder.

“You know the rules of the game, Noct.” The prince’s fingers clutch at the older man’s shirt, stretching the tight material, as he offers a curt nod. “Mm. Need lube.”

“We could move to my room,”

“Was hoping you could ride me right here, just like this.” Noctis’s face flushes, like it’s the first time this all has happened. He always appeared to have to be in a certain mood for his shame and nervousness to keep away, though a round or two prior seemed to leave its impact. “Go grab it and come right back. Don’t leave me waiting.”

Blue eyes hold with his for a moment before the raven nods once again and slips free from his grasp and lap, all but running down the hall to do as he’d been told. At least he knew when to listen. From time to time. Gladio strips his own shirt off, slinging it over the back of the couch, and slowly moves his own hand against himself, his left arm resting atop his previously discarded clothing.

Noctis returns with a bottle in his hands, though he freezes momentarily when he comes face-to-face with a completely undressed Gladio. He sets the bottle down and goes to remove his own shirt, but the Crownsguard grabs his wrist. “Leave it,” the brunette says, and pats a thigh, “sit back down.”

Quick to obey, the prince returns to his previous position, trying not to shiver as a slick finger is near-immediately pushing against him. Gladio nips at his neck, tongue then soothing the spot as he slides the finger in, eliciting a sharp gasp from the raven, his head falling back against a tattooed shoulder.

“Hey, lemme see that pretty face.” The brunette grabs locks of black hair and pulls his head back, amber eyes looking deeply into blue ones, nearly tinged a deep red with desire, and Noctis groans, hips bearing down as a second finger joins beside the first.

“Just stop being such a fucking tease, Gladio!” He hisses through clenched teeth, but the man in question simply chuckles throatily and doesn’t increase his pace in the slightest. Noctis groans, half in frustration, half at the stretch of two fingers, much larger than his own, mind you, and rolls his eyes.

Once again, his lips are captured in a kiss, though this one leaves him much more breathless as his shield finally relents, giving into the younger man’s demands. “As you command, your highness,” he says as he pulls back, listening to Noctis’s moans with rapt attention. A silent plea for more moves on the prince’s lips and he lets a third finger join beside the others.

Soon, he’s slipping free, and takes the bottle of lube in hand, spreading a generous amount across his own cock, and gestures for Noctis to help himself. The raven shifts his hips forward, taking ahold of Gladio as he lines himself up, and then slowly sinks down, the Crownsguard holding him steady.

They both groan in near tandem, Gladio throwing his head back as Noctis all but falls forward to rest his own against his chest. When the prince composes himself to lean back, his shield takes it upon himself to reopen his amber eyes and glance down, drinking in the view before him of the beautiful raven in his lap, still somehow looking regal even as he rides him to completion,

“Like a king on his throne,” Gladio half laughs, half moans, clutching desperately at slim, pale hips, crushingly, and is both pleased and disappointed to find that Noctis is a bit too distracted to pay him proper attention.

At some point, though neither were exactly sure of when, they’d been rolled over so that Noctis was laying stomach down against the couch, clutching desperately at the armrest. Gladio held his hips in position perfect for him to continuously slam against that sweet spot, relentless, like he was a creature of pure desire rather than human. Lips and teeth were against his back, his sweatshirt rolled up to his shoulders, branding him. He knew he’d certainly feel this in the morning, but couldn’t find it in him to particularly care, for what it was worth.

“Gladio,” the raven whimpers, pleading.

“Not quite yet,” comes his answer, and the grip on his hips turns bruising. Another whine slips past his lips but then the hands are gone, coming instead to grab his arms, pinning them against his back after he’s sufficiently repositioned, ass up and chest pressed flat against the couch cushions.

He’d never admit it aloud, and he was sure Gladio already knew, but he relished this. The strength his shield held, the lack of control he had, and he was more than perfectly content to be manhandled in such a manner, knowing Gladio would never truly harm him. A large hand wraps around his own cock, distracting him from the few thoughts he could manage. Noctis turns his head just enough to peer back at the Crownsguard, eyes half lidded with pleasure, and he nods. The pace picks up, both in the hips pounding against him and the hand wrapped around him, as they spiral closer and closer to the end.

Gladio’s roar masks his own cry of pleasure.

Noctis wakes up some time later, tucked into his own bed with the swordsman lying next to him, redressed and atop the covers, scrolling idly on his phone. He stretches with a quiet groan, catching the attention of amber eyes, before he leans over and places a firm kiss on lightly-grinning lips. Kicking the blankets off, he rolls out of bed, finding he’s still in his oversized sweatshirt, though he’s still without his bottoms.

He can feel the way that Gladio’s eyes stay on him, following his every movement, and hears the phone land on a pillow. There’s then the sound of the older man climbing across the bed before a pair of hands settles on his hips, grabbing him and pulling him back into the warm bed with an undignified squeak.

“Come on, isn’t it much too cold to be out and about like that?” His house was at a permanent sixty-something, but he got the distinct feeling Gladio was just making excuses. “Stay here, with me.” The latter half is a quiet near-whisper, and he’s then being held close to a muscled chest as they’re both covered up with blankets.

Noctis scoffs. “You’re getting soft,” the prince teases, though he’s merely awarded with the brunette pulling him flush against his own body, as if they were the final two puzzle pieces, and Gladio had finally just figured out how they fit.

“Only for you, my prince.”

They both can’t hold back the laughter that spills from them at that. 


	10. (Ignis/Prompto) Town Crier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> o “I’m sorry for your loss.” Promnis; yet another modern/college setting. There’s no use crying over spilt milk, but surely a dropped hot chocolate warrants some tears, right? 2362 words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I hate the chapter title too, I'm sorry

Though he was absolutely _loathed_ to admit it, Prompto has always been a bit of a crybaby, even to the point it was an easy subject for jokes from his father, despite the fact he wasn’t much of a joker. Just this morning, on his way out the door, he’d caught his jacket pocket on the doorknob, tears already welling up. Cor had merely freed him, nodding knowingly as his son had tried to make excuses, “it was just the wind, Dad!” and “an eyelash had gotten in my eye!” Then he’d been sent on his way, stopping at a café on the route to his college to grab a hot chocolate in an attempt to beat away the winter chill nipping at his face, turning freckled cheeks rosy.

His typical schedule was to arrive on campus about an hour or two ahead of his earliest class, mostly so that he could catch up on some homework without the distractions in his home, such as the tv, or his laptop. Sometimes an acquaintance from his afternoon class would join him, copying notes, though the raven would usually fall asleep at the table before he’d leave for his lecture. As he crosses through the front doors to the main building, the security guard sitting at the entrance behind a small desk waves in his direction. Smiling, the blonde goes to return it, as he stepped by, but, instead, fumbles both his laptop bag and drink in his hands, and watches, in horror, as the cup slips from his fingers as he’d gone to catch it.

The paper cup collides solidly with the floor, the jostle enough to pop the plastic lid off, and then his hot chocolate was spilling across tiles.

Prompto looks up from the scene of the crash, cheeks burning as he checks around him to make sure no one had caught the fumble, but there was no one else in the main hall, save for the security guard, who had already turned around in her desk, and a tall, light-haired brunette who appears to be typing away on his phone like some middle-aged mom. He pinches the bridge of his nose as he feels tears start to already prick at the corners of his eyes, trying to fight them back.

Removing his hand from his face, he sees that the brunette across the room was already gone, and then the panic set in. What should he do? Go find paper towels? But he can’t just leave the mess as is! Instead, he crouches down, picking up the toppled cup and the lid, planning to toss them into the nearby recycling bin, but, before he can stand back up, there’s a roll of paper towels in his vision. Blue eyes widen, and then his vision follows the paper towels upwards, to the hand holding them, gloved, slender, up a sleeved arm, before finally settling on a stern-set face, bespectacled.

Prompto jumps, launching the cup from his hand, though, by some miraculous form of luck, it soars directly to the lid of the recycling can, and totters over with a resounding _clunk_. His brain screams _SCORE,_ but his body is frozen in fear. The light’s caught in the man’s glasses, turning them into a reflective plane of sheer gray. He sighs, and merely lets his arm drop, tearing off a few towels with his other hand before he kneels down and starts mopping up the still-warm mess. “I’m sorry for your loss,” the man says, and suddenly Prompto’s heart remembers that he is very much still alive, thumping so harshly against his chest it echoes in his head, “but we simply cannot leave this mess here.”

“Y-yeah!” His body moves on its own fruition, autopilot on, and takes a few of the white towels into his own fingers, nervously cleaning up the mess he’d managed to make. “Thanks for your help, uh,”

“Ignis.”

Once the mess is clean sufficiently, the paper towels thrown away, the blonde turns on his heels and offers his hand out to the taller man. “I’m Prompto!” Ignis is pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose when their eyes lock, green on blue, and he gently accepts the gesture with his other, gloved hand. “This was awfully nice of you.”

“I couldn’t leave it there in good conscious.” Prompto loves this guy’s voice, the way it sends shivers across his spine, and dimly wonders where he’d acquired it. He hasn’t met anyone in Insomnia that sounded quite like him. “If you solemnly swear to not drop it this time around, I am quite willing to get you a new hot chocolate from the campus café.”

Ignis receives a set of thumbs up in reply, arching a brow. “I solemnly swear!” Nodding, the brunette picks up his over-the-shoulder bag and slips it on and starts off in the direction of the café.

“Very good. Follow me then.” Prompto follows, four steps behind, nervously wringing his hands through his scarf. The brunette pauses for a moment, and so does he, curious, but his companion shakes his head slightly before he gestures for him to follow closer. “No need to behave as if I have the plague. Come now,”

Slipping one hand, gently, against the back of a freckled arm, Ignis persuades the shorter man to walk by his side. Blue eyes widen, and then there’s a heated blush on his cheeks, but it’s timed in such a manner with them walking outside that he hopes it merely comes off as the cold nipping at his face. Either way, if the brunette had noticed, he says nothing.

On cold days like this, the café tended to be filled with chattering students, all holding warm drinks in their hands, tucked away at tables and booths, chatting with friends, or doing work. Prompto catches sight of his classmate, Noctis, the one who would periodically copy his notes, standing at the counter, nodding up at a beefy man who was handing him a cup, tattoos poking out from beneath his short-sleeved shirt.

Leaning forward across the counter, the café barista flags them down with a wave that Ignis returns. Noctis turns around, sleepily taking a sip from his drink. “Yo, Iggy, who’s your boyfriend?” The musclebound brunette calls over. Him and Noctis both burst out into laughter at their flabbergasted expressions, both blonde and ash-brunette spluttering in response to his crass words.

“He isn’t- Gladiolus, haven’t you work that needs done?” Ignis chides, face heated, though he tries to hide it by adjusting his glasses.

“Yes, mother,” the barista turns around, and starts doing some menial work behind the counter.

Noctis snorts into his drink, clapping a hand against his own thigh in revelry. “Yeah, Iggy, what are you? Our mom?”

“Mum’s the word,” crossing his arms, Ignis motions for Prompto to follow once again, though he still looks rather perplexed. “Don’t mind the children. They’re good friends of mine.” He tells the blonde, making an attempt at being reassuring.

Behind the counter, the tallest of the group spins on his heel. “Who are you calling a child? I’m the oldest.” He washes his hands off, scowling deep enough it looked as if it might turn permanent. “Anyways, can I get you and your _boyfriend_ anything?”

Noctis rolls his eyes, patting Prompto on the shoulder to catch his attention. He gestures over to an empty table as the bickering continues, and they both take a seat. His backpack is settled on his lap for a second as he rifles through it before extracting a notebook which he flips through and then places face-up on the table. “Here, from when you were late to class yesterday. I didn’t see you catch anyone else’s notes.”

A wide smile settles on the blonde’s face. “Hey, thanks!” He snaps a photo with his phone, and then retrieves his own notebook and a pen, setting out to copy down the notes. “You know, I almost didn’t recognize you, being awake and all.”

He receives a snort in reply, undignified, and Noctis reclines in his chair, lifting the front two legs off the ground. “Yeah, early mornings really aren’t my thing, but Ignis thought I might have an easier time with this damn class if we took it together.”

“You guys are good friends, huh?” Prompto doesn’t look up from his writing, but he can hear as the raven takes another sip of his drink and lets out a noise of affirmation.

“Since we were little. Gladio’s a more recent development, but it’s always good to have some muscle.” Blue eyes leave the page for a moment, spying the two brunettes still lightly bickering as Ignis pays off the bill with exact change, Gladio turning away to start making a drink.

Green and blue meet once again, and Ignis offers a short-lived smile. Prompto decides right then and there he’d very much like to see that smile again. “Yeah…” He’s not entirely sure what he’s agreeing to as Noctis keeps talking, but hopefully it’s nothing too horrible. Glasses are adjusted once again, and Ignis is sliding his gloves off, gently placing them in his bag’s front pocket, and Prompto can’t help but let his eyes linger on the attractive man before him.

“Yo, Eos to Prompto,” Noctis puts his chair back down and lightly raps his hand against blonde hair, “come in, chocobo-butt.”

“W-what?” He very much looks like he’d just been caught with his hand in the tip jar, but there’s an attempt made to brush it off. It’s not a very good attempt, but its an attempt all the same. “Sorry, was just trying to remember if I forgot my keys.”

“Well did you lose them in Iggy’s back pocket? ‘Cause I saw that,” Noctis smirks, sitting back in his chair again, “dude, if you like him, just ask him out. Worst thing he can do is say no.”

 _Yeah, and that’s exactly what I’m scared of,_ the blonde thinks, but doesn’t get the chance to say it before Ignis is joining them at the table, setting his own drink down before he nudges Noctis with his free hand, “stop that,” and then offers Prompto his hot chocolate. Groaning in frustration, the raven puts his chair into its proper position and takes an angry sip of his drink.

“Hey, Iggy, you’re still not busy this weekend, right?” Noctis starts, and Prompto sees a mischievous smirk from behind his cup, the mouth still at his lips. The brunette nods lightly, clearly wary of where this was going. Weekend plans with Noctis rarely ever involved anything good. “Well, would you mind if I set you up with a friend of mine?”

“You only have two friends.” Ignis huffs, popping the tab of an Ebony coffee. “And I am not going out with Gladio.”

The trio hears a barked defense in the background, though neither of his friends respond, opting to, instead, keep eying each other. “See, that’s where you’re wrong. I’ve made another friend this semester, he’s a nice guy. Keeps me awake during class, and helps me with notes.”

Ignis arches one brow, and Prompto swears his green eyes light up with interest. He takes a quiet drink of his hot chocolate before returning to the notes, pretending that he’s not paying attention the conversation. “Oh? Is that so?”

“Mmhm, and he’s pretty cute too. Kinda short, with freckles and blonde hair,” Prompto nearly chokes on his drink, and they both look at him. Noctis pats him on the back as he coughs.

“Dude!” Crying out, the blonde looks him square in the eyes, “You can’t seriously be trying to set me up with your best friend right now!”

“When did I say it was you?” Noctis crosses his arms, and leans back in his chair once more, watching as his other two tablemates look over at one another, eyes wide, near comically so in Prompto’s case.

Ignis hums thoughtfully. “A rather clever ploy,” Noctis puffs up with pride, looking every bit like a chocobo who’d just won a race, “for you, at least.” He deflates, and then he’s being pulled back so that his chair legs are touching the ground once again. Man, he really can’t catch a break today. “But I suppose if you’re comfortable with such a thing, Prompto, the idea really isn’t all that horrible, I must admit.”

Spluttering, the youngest of the group waves his hand in a hurry. “I mean! We’ve just met! I guess it would be a good way to get to know you… but I don’t even know if I’ll have any homework this weekend yet!”

Ignis holds out his hand, eyes drifting down to the phone he was currently using as a paperweight. “May I?” Prompto gently sets it into his open palm, and the man types his number into the contacts before handing it back. “If you end up having homework, but you would like to get to know one another better, all you have to do is text. I’ll stop by to help, or do my own work. But don’t let me pressure you, Prompto.”

“No, no, that sounds great!” His face is burning up, he just knows it. Tears start prickling at his eyes before he can even realize, and then they’re streaming down his face. Both of the other men at the table look at him in concern. “I-I’m fine, promise! I’m just a bit emotional,” oh, how he’d love to just curl up into a ball and die at this second.

Politely, Ignis holds up one finger to ask for a moment, and then he’s searching through a side pocket on his bookbag. He pulls a small travel pack of tissues free, slipping one from its packaging and unfolding it. Scooting his chair closer to the blonde, he gently dabs it against his cheek, wiping up the tears as they fall.

“Oh, thank you…”

“It’s quite alright. Here,” he’s handed a clean tissue as Ignis leans back, “don’t feel ashamed of your emotions, Prompto. We won’t judge you.”

Oh man, oh man, _oh man_ , he could already feel himself falling in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This certainly wasn't my favorite one I've written but


	11. (Gladio/Prompto) Sharing a Meal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> o “You can have half.” Promptio; prior to the game. Sometimes Gladio remembers how to be nice, but it certainly helps that Prompto is his boyfriend. 827 words.

The Crownsguard training hall is a strange place of both rigid command, and lawlessness. It leaves some rules, and morals for that matter, up to debate. Really, it was just as confusing as it sounded at times, though the politeness of most members kept things in line. For the most part, considering that, despite everything, there were always a few bad apples. It was one such bad apple, Prompto assumes, that’d had the sheer _audacity_ to snatch his lunch, despite his name being written across the lid of the container. Oh, but they’d so nicely cleaned the container and put it back, as if it were a normal sort of thing to put empty food containers in the fridge.

Prompto groans, hands clutching at his own hair as he pockets the glass and its lid into his bag. At least they’d returned it. With a sigh, he heaves himself into a chair and pulls out his phone, trying to cease his fuming, though he’s still visibly upset when someone steps into the room a few moments after.

“Hey,” he hears a familiar voice and immediately brightens, sitting up straight as a pair of strong arms wraps around him, “what’s the matter?” Gladio’s face nuzzles against his own, causing him to start giggling as his scruff tickles his cheek and then the older man relents, backing away to retrieve something from the community fridge and putting it in the microwave before he joins him at the table.

Prompto groans and leans back in his seat, hands covering his face, “someone ate my lunch!” Then he’s leaning forward, elbows on the flat surface of the table. “Had my name on it and everything…”

Quiet beeping fills the room as the timer sounds off and Gladio leans over, not leaving his seat once, as he grabs his leftovers from the microwave. He grabs two plastic spoons from a red cup crammed full of them in the center of the table and holds one out to the blonde, who takes it curiously. “You can have half,”

Blue eyes light up and Prompto’s posture straightens once again. “Really? You won’t be too hungry if I do, right?”

Gladio shakes his head and separates the container in half, then slides it closer to the younger man. “It’s better than you starving for the rest of the day.” It’s nothing fancy, just leftovers from his dinner the night prior, chicken and rice, but it’s certainly better than nothing. “Besides, what kinda boyfriend would I be if I didn’t share?”

“You’re the absolute best!” Comes Prompto’s reply between bites, and then they fall into relative silence until they finish, the only real thing of note being when Gladio had to fend off his boyfriend from his half of the dish. Once they’re both finished, he stands and starts to rinse out the container.

Prompto sneaks up behind him, well, _sneaking_ being that he loudly announces he’s coming up behind him before he wraps his arms around a much larger torso. “You gotta let me repay you! Any ideas?”

Gladio lifts his left arm and peers down at the younger man in response, one brow arched as blue eyes stare back. “Oh, I’ve got a couple ideas,” he says with a wink, laughing at the blush that spreads across freckled cheeks like a flashfire.

“I meant like I could make us lunch tomorrow! Or order something!” Prompto jumps back, waving his hands in a flurry, and the Crownsguard takes both wrists in his grasp to still him. He shifts both wrists into one hand, and then uses his now-free arm to scoop the blonde into his hold, swiftly delivering a kiss to his lips.

“It was a joke, Prom,” for the most part at least, “I know you wanna take this slow. How about we have a nice dinner tomorrow instead? I’ll pick you up, we’ll go wherever you want,”

“But this is to pay _you_ back, you can pick the place!” Prompto wraps both arms around the brunette’s neck as soon as his wrists are released, clinging to him like glue. “And I’ll pay! Sounds good?”

Amber eyes meet with blue ones and Gladio offers a little shrug. “Sure,” he places another kiss on smiling lips, though this one’s longer, deeper, and he continues his thought when the pull away, “we should enjoy some time to ourselves before we have to leave. Definitely won’t have any with His Majesty, Prince Pain-in-the-Ass, with us.”

Prompto gasps, “are you allowed to talk about him like that?”

“What’s he gonna do? Fire me? Brat’s stuck with me. Kinda like you.” It’s the blonde’s turn to initiate the kiss, and a welcome turn of events. Prompto making the first move was always a pleasant sort of surprise.

“Yeah, but I _like_ being stuck with you.” Prompto laughs when they separate again.

“Mm,” Gladio sets him down and ruffles his blonde, feathery hair. “And I like being stuck with _you_.”


	12. (Gladio/Ignis) Snowed In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> o “Take my jacket, it’s cold outside.” Gladnis; high school. What kind of guy makes his boyfriend walk home in the snow without a coat? Plus, wearing his varsity jacket, everyone knows just who Gladio gets to call his. 4268 words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one REALLY got away from me, but what can I say? I just miss winter.

These sorts of things were incredibly rare, probably only happening once a year or so, yet here they were. Students were piling into public transportation or climbing into cars, either their own or their parents’, others were bundled up and walking down the sidewalks away from Insomnia High, as snow rolled down from the sky to coat the ground with a heavy blanket. Gladio shifts his backpack on his shoulder and briefly considers buttoning up the black varsity jacket, clearly the storm was going to get bad if the school had decided to let out so early.

He hears other students around him, calling out their goodbyes and making plans to hang out during the snow, there’s talk of sledding and snowball fights, before the crowd begins to flourish in a new manner, calling out variations of “is that the prince?” Turning on his heel, he catches sight of Noctis climbing into a sleek, black car, the falcon-wing doors opening to reveal it’s a two-seater, and the driver is a man he doesn’t recognize. Ignis waits by the car’s side, passing the prince his bag before leaning in to buckle his seatbelt, earning a frustrated scold in return. He’s unphased, and instead, merely stands straight on the curb. Gladio inches closer, overhearing the tail end of a conversation.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. My parents would prefer it that I come home to our manner rather than getting caught in this storm. I will call you later, Noctis, to make sure you’ve done your work.”

“Come on, Specs, school will be closed for a week with this weather!”

“All the more reason to get it done ahead of time.” Ignis chides, and closes the door, waving the car off as the crowd bustles about, trying to peer into the dark windows and snapping photos. He sighs, shoulders dropping, and Gladio notices then that he’s not wearing anything particularly warm.

His hands are gloved, a pair of woven black wool, and long sleeves of a button up cover his arms, but most of his clothes are made for look, not warmth. “How unlike you,” Gladio says as he plops his backpack against the ground, “unprepared.”

Ignis turns to look at him, though he doesn’t hide his shame or anger at the comment, green eyes narrowed. “I have already realized my mistake, Amicitia.” Ouch, last named. He ignores the sting and starts to strip his jacket off. “What are you doing?”

“Take my jacket,” the black varsity jacket is then flipped around and gently laid down over slender shoulders. Ignis looks like he’s positively swimming in it. “It’s cold outside.”

Threading his arms through the sleeves, the shorter brunette starts to button up the jacket, nodding his head. “Won’t you be cold?” He questions, his words fogging up his glasses. “I’d hate for you to freeze because of my foolishness.”

“Oh, don’t worry about me,” he picks up the other’s bag, an over-the-shoulder messenger-style bag, and slings it on, “all these muscles keep me warm enough.” He nearly flexes as if to prove a point, but worries it might stretch his sweater’s sleeves out too much. Mom would be furious.

Scoffing, Ignis turns around and glances at the sky above, watching the clouds for a moment. Gladio catches sight of _AMICITIA_ sprawled across the junior’s back, accompanied by a large font number 42, and he smiles to himself. It felt damn close to branding the adviser as his own, for the whole school to see.

“The clouds don’t seem to be moving. This storm is going nowhere soon,” Ignis says, though the other brunette certainly isn’t paying attention, and he reaches back to take hold of a larger hand. “Let us not waste any time. Do you have to pick up your sister?”

“Oh man, let me check.” He unbuttons a pocket on the front of his jacket, ignoring the way the junior arches a light brow at him. Honestly, he’d forgotten his phone was in his pocket when he’d given it over. With a swipe, he unlocks his phone and finds a text from his mother, and a second from his father, both asking that he grab Iris from school. “Yeah. Her school isn’t far from my house.”

Ignis nods, and then tugs Gladio along by the hand he’s still got in his grasp. “Come,” the ash-brunette ignores the whispers around them, though the senior can’t help but feel pride in his romantic conquest of sorts, “we should try to beat the storm. Though, my house is much closer to the elementary school than yours. Worst comes, the two of you can stay at our manor.”

“Why didn’t you go with Noctis to the castle?” Gladio asks, though he’d overheard a short bit of the conversation. “If your parents aren’t worried about people getting caught at friend’s houses, I mean.”

Ignis’s face burns hotly, a stark contrast to the winter chill against his cheeks. “If I may be honest,” he mutters, “I was hoping that you would ask me to walk you home.”

Heart skipping entire beats, the senior darts in front of him, cutting him off so that they’re standing face to face. “Is that so?” He inquires, and Ignis is looking everywhere that isn’t him. Snowflakes catch in his eyelashes, melting slowly and wetting green eyes. “Well then, Scientia, may I walk you home?” Gladio gives a mocking sort of bow before he peers up at him from his half-bent position and gives a little wink, hand extending.

Flustered, Ignis retakes his hand in his own, and they continue down the sidewalk. He swears he hears the shutter of someone’s camera, but ignores it since the other brunette doesn’t say anything, and they soon are crossing through the gates to the school, turning left to a crossing. Cars roll by as they stand hand-in-hand, waiting for the pedestrian crossing, but the blush burning at his cheeks doesn’t originate from shame in the slightest.

Iris had been waiting for them at the main doors of her school, bursting outside as soon as she caught sight of her brother. “Gladdy!” She exclaims, little arms shuffling against her sides with a _shlick-shlick-shlick_ of her winter coat, and she hops up at him. He catches her midair without any difficulty as an administrator walks out the school doors, asking for an ID to make sure she was safe to go with him.

“Hi, Ignis!” Iris says as she’s passed from her brother’s arms to his friend’s, Gladio needing his hands to dig his ID out from his back pocket. Ignis shifts her in his arms with some difficulty as the teacher looks over the card with a small amount of scrutiny before it’s handed back. He tells the three of them to be safe in the weather and sends them on their way. Quickly, the elementary student is passed back to her brother.

“I do believe she is getting much too big to be carried at such an age.” Ignis says as he adjusts his glasses, though Gladio snorts in reply.

“Tell that to my parents. We’re all strong enough to carry her everywhere, so I guess they figure _why not_?” He continues to carry her for a block more before setting her down. She’s closest to the junior then, as her brother presses the button at the crossing, and she holds her hand up to Ignis. It’s taken without complaint.

Gladio smiles as he peers over his shoulder at them, though he tries not to be too obvious, worried that his boyfriend may pull away if he did. “How was your day at school?” Ignis asks the girl, and her face lights up. She launches into a story, regaling them in her day, right down to what she’d had for lunch -a classic peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich, accompanied by a pack of fruit snacks- and the younger teen pays rapt attention, even asking her questions every so often.

How cute was this! His two favorite people, and Ignis was just absolutely delighting her.

“I have the feeling you two will be spending the night at my house.” Ignis tells her, and she bounces in place. The storm was not letting up in the slightest, in fact, it seemed to be getting rather worse. “Would you care for any help with your homework this evening?”

“Yes please!” Iris smiles up at him, and he only breaks away to unlock the front gate.

Scientia Manor is an extravagant sort of place, though certainly not as much as the palace, nor not nearly as large as the Amicitia’s place. There are only three buildings on the property, and they walk up to the largest of the trio, the door unlocked with a pin pad. Ignis steps in first, inputting a code into a second pad on the inside of the door as Gladio helps Iris step up the large brick step.

They’re in a foyer of sorts, with a small bench that Iris is prompted to sit down on. Shelves hang on the wall, coats hanging from hooks on them, and there’s a hutch in one corner. A shoe cubby is sitting across from the bench, and Ignis kneels down to undo Iris’s snow boots, setting them atop of it. “Stay right here, please,” he tells her as he and Gladio take off their own shoes, sliding them into empty cubbies.

Gladio helps her out of her purple coat as Ignis takes of his own, taking the smaller one into his hand and hanging them up so that the melting snow falls onto a towel rather than the stonework floor. The oldest of the three jumps ever so slightly when he receives a tap to the shoulder, and then sees Ignis standing there with his hand extended. “Your sweater is wet,” he says, simply, and Gladio eyes him for a moment before stripping it off. It’s hung up next to the outerwear. “Alright. Let’s settle in the den for now, shall we?”

An unlit fireplace is the main focus of the den, two couches arranged so that they’re a safe distance, but also close enough to fully benefit from its warmth. There’s a large, rounded-corner coffee table in the center of the space outlined by the couches, a vase in the center, though some books are also neatly stacked up on it as well. Bookshelves line the far wall, a recliner tucked into the corner so that it faces the windows and a glass door that leads outside to a garden space. A tv hangs above the fireplace.

Ignis takes Iris’s backpack, setting it down on the recliner after making sure it’s sufficiently dry, and then motions for Gladio to sit the other two down with it. “Now, to get you out of your wet clothes before you catch a cold,” the junior says to the youngest as he hands her the tv remote. “Perhaps she can wear a shirt of mine as I run a load of laundry?”

“I don’t see why not. But I doubt you’ll have anything that fits me.” Gladio says, smiling with his arms crossed over his chest. “And I definitely can’t prowl around half naked. What would your parents think?”

Pale cheeks flush red once again, and, despite the weather they’d just endured, Gladio gets the distinct feeling its due to something more. He knew they’d both yet to tell their respective parents, or anyone for that matter, about their relationship, but he hadn’t expected such a reaction.

“Well, I’ll have you know that we’ve amassed a rather large collection of clothing you’ve forgotten here or at the palace over the years.” Ignis replies finally, after several moments to allow his brain to reboot. “So if you’d please follow me- Iris, please stay here.”

She offers him a wide smile and a thumbs up in return. “I’ll stay right here, Iggy! Promise!”

“If anything happens, we’ll be just down the hall. All you have to do is call for us.” He tells her, smoothing back her short hair, finding that it was ever-so-slightly damp. “And I’ll get you a towel for your hair, as well.”

Gladio was promptly and swiftly ushered into a walk-in closet full of clothes that were not only his own that he’d forgotten over various different misadventures, but he spotted some belonging to not only Noctis but Prompto as well. “It was our parents’ collective idea,” he’s told quickly, “otherwise I would have returned everything once they were washed.”

“Fair enough.” He sorts through the clothes, settling quickly enough on a shirt he’d left over the summer and a pair of jeans from the fall. “Though I was beginning to wonder where some of these had gone.” Without a second thought, he pulls the shirt over his head and then begins to undo his belt. Ignis splutters behind him.

“At the very least, wait for me to step out!” Gladio turns to face him with a smug look, finding him standing there redder in the face than he ever had seen him before, and a clothes basket in his hands.

His belt is pulled free in a fluid motion and he tosses it into the basket. “What? We are dating.” That smug expression never once leaves his face.

“This is highly inappropriate. We haven’t even kissed yet,” Ignis says, averting his eyes as the Crownsguard undoes his pants and starts to push them down from his hips. “Incorrigible man,” he turns around, focusing instead on the wall rather than the teenager currently stripping down. There’s a light _thump_ and then the pants are in the clothes basket, the sound of Gladio zipping up the fly of his jeans.

“You know, we could change that.” He’s met with Gladio’s smirking face as he turns back around, and, momentarily, his own expression turns questioning. “The kiss thing.”

Ignis scoffs and makes his exit, grasping a set of black clothes, presumedly for Iris. “Only when you learn to behave.” Behind him, Gladio shrugs, following a few steps after. He flicks off the light to the room, muttering something about _his loss_. “Return to your sister,” the clothes are all but shoved into the older teen’s arms. “I need to change as well, and retrieve towels.” Once the senior offers him a second shrug and goes back down the hall towards the den, the ash-brunette turns down the opposite direction, taking a flight of stairs up to the second level. His room is the first door on the right, the door swinging open to reveal a pristine bedroom.

A quick rifle through his closet earns him a simple gray sweater and a patterned pair of pajama bottoms that cling close to his legs. There’s a full bathroom attached to his room, so merely grabs three small towels from there rather than trek further down the hall. He takes a moment to push the window curtains aside, peering out into the yard.

Snow lines the ground, densely, leaving not even a single blade of grass uncovered. A heavy haze has settled low to the ground, wind blowing snowflakes this way and that through the fog, and Ignis briefly counts their blessings that they arrived before the storm had taken such a horrid turn.

Scaling the stairs, he can hear the low rumble of the television, and returns to the den to see that Iris has already changed, Gladio having drawn the strings of the shorts as tight as he could to keep them from falling. She bounces on a couch cushion as her brother scrolls idly on his phone next to her. He eventually reaches over and places one hand on her head, convincing her to calm down, as Ignis scoops up her dirty, snow-wetted clothes and sets down the towels. He catches the time as he starts a small load of laundry, seeing that it’s become just past noon.

“Have you told your parents where you’re staying?” Ignis asks as he returns to the room, crouching down in front of the fireplace. He stacks up a few logs as Iris musses up her brother’s hair with a towel, her hair already having suffered the same fate.

“Yeah,” school had let out about an hour ago, but Iris was already in vacation mode, though perhaps she was merely always like that, as she bounced in place again, giggling at her brother’s hair, “they said thanks, that they know we’re in good hands.”

Ignis nods as the fire comes to life, shutting the fireplace’s guard. “Iris, when did they have you each lunch?”

The girl leans back, one finger on her chin, giving it a good think. When the schools suddenly decided they had to close like this, they always made sure lunch period happened before the closing. “About half an hour before dismissal.”

“I see. I don’t suppose you would be very hungry now, then?” A shake of her head was his answer and he climbs to his feet, brushing off his pants. “Very well. How about a warm drink then? Would you care for a hot chocolate?”

She hops to her feet, nodding vigorously, before she runs up to him, clutching a pants leg and looking up at him with puppy-dog eyes. “Yes please! Can I?”

Gladio bursts into laughter, unable to contain it any longer as he watches the scene unfold before him. “You’re such a mother hen, Iggy! It’s adorable!” Ignis feels his own face flush and he turns his head away with huff, nose upturned. “Hey, come on, don’t be like that!” The older teen calls after them as he takes the girl by her hand, leading her away to the kitchen, leaving his boyfriend on the couch.

Iris had fallen asleep half-past eight, curled up on the couch between the two of them as they watched movies. She had one hand wrung into her brother’s shirt, the other keeping hold of the blanket Ignis had thrown over them after the first film. Gladio stretches with a yawn, extending one arm down and around his boyfriend’s shoulders, pulling him as close as he can without crushing his sister between them.

“You can change the film,” the junior says with a hum as he nuzzles his face into the crook of the other teen’s jaw, the beginnings of a beard lightly scratching at him. “I do believe she’s down for the count.”

“What about you? Tired yet?” Gladio’s hand falls lower, clutching at the fabric over his boyfriend’s side.

Ignis merely leans back, resting his head on a strong shoulder, “not quite yet. There’s perhaps a few hours left to my day.” His phone vibrates against the coffee table and he breaks from Gladio’s hold. “Noctis. Allow me to take this,” he excuses himself from the room, and the older teen reclines against the couch, sighing heavily.

Is there a word that describes the feeling of your prince cockblocking you from your first kiss with your new boyfriend? He debates making up a new term on the spot, but peers down at his sister. Sleeping in that position for much longer would surely leave a crick in her neck, among other things, so he scoops her up into his arms, and takes her down the hall to the room Ignis had pointed out at some point prior, saying that she was welcome to it for the duration of their stay. Light floods the hall from the kitchen archway, and he can hear the adviser speaking calmly to the prince.

He tucks Iris into the bed and leaves the door half cracked as he leaves, finding that Ignis has moved to the dining room now. “Yes, Gladio is here. My manor was merely closer than the Amicitia’s,” he pinches the bridge of his nose, pushing his glasses high on his face, “no, nothing is happening. I can be at the castle tomorrow morning. I merely did not wish to make anyone send for a car in that sort of weather. It’s a veritable blizzard outside, Noct. Besides, I should expect you to be rather content I am not there to hound you. Do you truly miss me that much?”

Gladio watches as Ignis smiles at the way the prince defends himself from the other side of the line. He holds his phone away from his ear as the raven’s voice raises in volume, and pitch. Their eyes lock when the ash-brunette turns around to continue his pacing and he makes a dramatic show of rolling his eyes.

“Please, Noctis, you’ll see me again before long. As soon as the weather clears, I shall make my way to the palace. Now, please try to get some rest, and, for the love of the Six, _do your homework_.” Noctis says something else, earning a shake of the head from Ignis. “Yes, yes, goodbye.” Ignis pockets his phone and sighs before gesturing for Gladio to return to the den with him.

The movie from before is still flashing across the screen, but the senior flips the tv off and retakes his seat. He unbundles the blanket across his lap and holds out his arms. When Ignis merely looks at him, perplexed, he pats his thigh, which seems to get the idea across well enough. Blushing, the ash-colored brunette steps closer, though he comes to a stop before his boyfriend, and Gladio rolls his eyes. He sits forward and takes ahold of the younger teen, placing him sideways in his lap with little effort. Both arms wrap around a slimmer waist.

Ignis scoffs, though he still leans his head down to rest his forehead against Gladio’s chest, and they stay there like that for some time, not that either of them know for quite how long. They only separate once the younger brunette decides he needs to shift, and then they lay down across the couch, the taller teen’s feet hanging off the other end. Face-to-face and as close as they are, Gladio can feel breath against his skin, staring into green eyes. He’d never noticed before, but there were flecks of gold and brown in Ignis’s eyes, like the grains of a piece of jade.

Even in the low light of the room, he can see the way a blush spreads across pale skin, and has to bite back a soft chuckle. Oh, how desperately he wants to simply lean forward, eliminating what little space lay between them, and capture Ignis’s lips with his own, but decides against it. He should let it happen at the rate Ignis needs to be comfortable, his comfort was certainly much more important than Gladio’s wild teenage hormones.

Instead, he lets his hand come to rest against a rosy cheek, his thumb tracing patterns between the freckles that decorate his boyfriend’s skin. Ignis leans into the touch with a soft hum, eyes closing, and he hooks one leg over Gladio’s, bringing him closer.

After a bit, when the thumb against his cheek comes to a still, he reopens his eyes, catching amber ones, and he gently sides both of his hands, open palmed, onto each side of the senior’s face. Gladio arches one brow at him curiously, and he freezes. They stay like that for a few moments before amber eyes close, mostly out of sleepiness, laying here, pressed closely to a warm body calms both his body and mind in such a manner he’s begun to find it rather hard to stay fully awake. Ignis runs one thumb against a strong jawline, memorizing the shape of it and the feel of short facial hair against his skin, before, finally, he musters of his courage.

“May I…” Amber eyes reopen, and he nearly loses all will right then and there. Gladio tilts his head ever so slightly, inquiring. He screws his own eyes shut and blurts out a sudden: “May I kiss you?”

Gladio shoots up to sit straight, bringing Ignis with him, the younger teen letting out an undignified noise. “Did you just-” he shakes his head, clearing away some thoughts, “of course you can! You don’t have to ask.”

Ignis nods, and then he looks away, seemingly regathering himself, before he leans forward. Green and amber meet momentarily before both students close their eyes, and then their lips brush. It’s a light, momentary sort of thing that the ash-brunette immediately shies away from, the idea of this seeming just a _bit_ too foreign, but then he returns a second later with renewed determination, and their lips meet fully.

This is a new sort of thing to the both of them, so it’s a messy, unorganized affair, but it still leaves them panting for breath when they separate. Gladio had slipped one hand to a slender hip at some point, Ignis’s arms wrapped against the back of his neck. Then the shield takes his turn, leaning in, and it starts all over again. He has to hold himself back from trying anything further, not wanting to push the adviser too far, but when they break away once again, he can’t help the way his blood burns at the sight of Ignis, breathless and beautiful.

“Would you care to retire to my room with me?” He’s asked after a quiet moment of only their breathing and hearts beating, and he arches a brow at the question. “A bed is much more comfortable than this, I’m sure. Besides, then we don’t have to worry about Iris walking in on us kissing.”

“Only we can keep this going.” Gladio already knows the answer, but he’s got demands to make.

Ignis nods in response.

“Count me in then.”


	13. (Polyship) Rest and Relaxation - Explicit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> o “Sorry I’m late.” Polyship; on the road. Noctis walks into the hotel room right as things get heated. 2197 words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer that, in this chapter, I, a trans man, am using my headcanons of Ignis and Prompto being trans. I use terminology to describe what's under the belt that may make some of my trans friends uncomfortable, so if you don't like that, thank you for checking this chapter and feel free to skip to the next! 
> 
> There's also a brief mention of scars from top surgery, but it is very quick and not explicitly mentioned to be from top surgery. I ultimately decided it would make the most sense for them to have had surgery since they're very athletic people and binders are NOT a good idea when doing any sort of strenuous activity.

Galdin Quay is known for many things; the sights, the cuisine, the… romantic atmosphere. It’s become a bit of a hotspot for their motley crew as they run quests and various other jobs, and, after several long-winded hunts, they had all decided it was more than time for a little R&R. Just after their arrival, Prompto had flopped down onto the king-sized bed, Noctis had gathered up his fishing supplies and set out with Gladio, leaving Ignis to his own devices as he tried to devise a plan for dinner.

Before long, Gladio had settled into reading on the pier by the raven’s side, feet kicking into the water. The king didn’t look away from the line he’d casted as his shield’s phone rumbled in a pants pocket, the brunette taking his sweet time before finally pulling it free. He nearly fumbles it as he checks the notification, though Noctis still doesn’t stir.

“Hey, how much longer do you think this’ll take?”

“Ask the fish.” Noct replies, leaning his cheek into one palm as he watched the waters. “Why? Something come up?”

“Nothing too worrisome, just Prompto craving attention.” Gladio shifts just enough so that he can slide the screen of his phone into the younger man’s view, and watches with a smirk as the king’s blue eyes widen in surprise at the image before him.

Merciless, Prompto had sent a rather… riveting picture to the shield, of him half-dressed and laying in a provocative manner. Rather tame, all things considered, but judging by the familiar driving-glove clad hand clutching at the blonde’s hip, it likely wouldn’t stay so for too much longer. Noctis swallows.

“Maybe the fish can wait,” he mutters, and his shield laughs as he pulls his feet out of the gently lulling ocean. As the brunette laces his combat boots back into place, Noct goes to stand, but feels a sudden pull on his line. “Or not. Room’s right there, I’ll be fine for a few right? I’ll catch up.”

Gladio looks torn, caught between what his duties demand, and the desires of his body, but when the raven manages a stern shrug of his shoulder in the direction of their room as he struggles with the fish, his decision is made for him. “Don’t make us wait too long. I’ll come back if you’re not there in ten.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t keep Prom waiting!” On the line, the fish lurches suddenly to the left, and Gladio lets out a restrained sigh as he heads down the pier. They really aren’t too far, and he could keep an eye on him from the room if he really had to…

Before long, he’s reeled in the fish. It’s not the monster he was hoping for, but it would do well enough for dinner. He dismisses his rod and deposits the fish into an empty cooler bag, shrugging it over his shoulder as he then takes off down the pier in the same path that his shield had mere moments ago. There’s no way of telling the time, so all he can do is hope that it hasn’t been _too_ long.

Fumbling the keycard, he tries to unlock the door before pushing it open just enough he can slip in, locking it behind him. This hotel room is rather expansive, much more like an apartment than anything else, with a combined kitchen and living space right where you walk in, the bedroom several steps down the short hallway to the right. Noctis places the bag directly into the fridge, and washes his hands quickly in the sink before all but sprinting down the hall.

He knocks on the door to announce himself with a: “Sorry I’m late,” but every other thought drains from him as his eyes take in the scene unfolding before him. All three members of his little entourage are in various states of undress as Gladio is shrugging off his jacket and unbuttoning Ignis’s trousers in the same motion, Prompto ceasing his rolling motion as he frees himself from his briefs at their king’s arrival.

“And with four minutes to spare,” Iggy utters, though anything else he might’ve had to say further is quickly replaced with a soft whimper as their oldest companion nips at his exposed neck. His pants are quickly discarded to the floor, alongside his underwear, and, save for his socks, he’s now the first one undressed.

Prompto holds out his arms, having become distracted from his task of brief-removal, and motions for the raven to join them. Noctis pulls his shirt off in one swift movement, his jacket already tossed onto the chair by the door, and climbs atop the bed and into the freckled arms of the blonde. His shoulders are already kissed by the sun, ever-so-slightly burned, and the king tests the waters by placing his lips to tender skin, though it elicits no hiss of pain, so he shifts his attentions downwards to a slight collarbone and wraps his arms around fair-skinned shoulders.

Bracelet still covering his barcode though his gloves are long since abandoned, Prompto slides his hands south, and begins to undo his king’s pants. Beside them, Gladio is doing the same for himself as the ash-brunette shuffles with too much grace into a more comfortable position, two sets of blue eyes watching with appreciative glances. As soon as the shield’s cock is freed from its cloth confines, the blonde lets out a soft groan, though whether its from the view alone or the loving bites to his neck, none of them are quite sure.

All the same, Gladio smirks and flexes a bit for him, though he’s quickly yanked down by the chain of his necklace by their ebony-haired companion, who places his lips to rougher ones. He laughs and accepts the kiss, wrapping strong arms around the younger man as he leans back across the bed, pulling his lighter frame along with him. Their dicks make contact as he’s settled into his lap, earning a slight hiss of surprise at the sudden contact.

Prompto finally manages free of his briefs, tossing them atop the pile of mixed clothing. Noctis is released from a crushing grip to his waist not long after, and he rolls off of the mountainous form of Gladio, landing next to Ignis who eyes him with a playful sort of look they’ve all come to know well over the course of this trip. From where he’s laying, twisted half on his side, half on his back, he spreads his legs ever-so-slightly, giving the king an eyeful. He receives a stutter in response and laughs good-naturedly.

Though it’s soon the king’s turn to laugh when the blonde reaches over, draping himself across Gladio’s muscled torso, and glides his index finger against the lips of Ignis’s cunt, eliciting a soft startled noise. As Prompto chuckles, his hand batted away by larger, more slender fingers, Gladio rolls his amber eyes and enacts some form of revenge. There’s only a moment’s notice of what’s about to come, notified by the soft, ghost of a touch against soft folds to test the level of wetness, and then one, thick finger slips in, teasing along the blonde’s walls.

“Gladio!” Prompto’s voice catches in his throat as he’s subjected to the gentle beginnings of a finger-fuck, and Ignis leans over, catching his lips with his own.

“That’s the price of teasing, dear Prompto.” He receives a playful pout in return, though it’s quickly forgotten as the shield slips a second finger in alongside his index.

Ignis sits back to enjoy the view, and the sounds, though it’s not very long-lasting before Noctis is pulling him towards himself, fingers mussing up expertly styled hair. He huffs quietly, but isn’t able to complain before he’s being directed towards the crown jewels. Lips parting, he graciously accepts his new task and sets to work, gently licking and sucking.

Before long, their resident gunslinger’s been reduced to a mewling, pleading mess, and Gladio releases him from his clutches to reach for a box on the nightstand. It’s torn open with ease, and then a packet of condoms is tossed in Noctis’s direction. They land against his thigh, earning an irritated noise as he’s distracted from the scene before him.

One condom is freed from its packaging and the shield slides it into place, “alright,” he sighs, “who’s first?” Noctis shakes his head, but whether is merely disparaging or his answer, Gladio isn’t sure. Not that he’s given much time to think about it before Prompto is settling into place in his direct line of vision, pouting that he’d dare offer to the others before finishing what he’d started. Amber eyes roll and then he takes ahold of slim, freckled hips, pulling the blonde close and laying him flat on his back against the king-sized bed. He rubs himself against soft folds, drawing moans from his partner as he makes contact with the sensitive little clit. Eventually, they both tire of the teasing and he lines himself up before sinking in with a satisfied grunt, one hand leaving Prompto’s hip to trace along the scars against his chest.

By now, both Noctis and Ignis had distracted away from their ministrations, watching with rapt attention as the swordsman slid into place, slowly, inch by inch, until he’s buried to the hilt. Blue and green eyes lock for a moment, before the adviser motions down to the package of condoms that had been tossed their way not long beforehand. Noctis takes the hint and separates one from the rest, hands nearly shaking in excitement as Gladio hushes the gunslinger with a demanding kiss.

Ignis slides the thin sheath over the kingly cock, still wet with his saliva, though he’s given very little time to make sure it’s secure before Noctis descends upon him, catching him by the legs and pulling him closer. The head of his shaft nudges against Ignis’s entrance, breath hitching as he tests pliancy, before he, as well, starts to sink into the slick warmth. His adviser can’t help but lean back, flat against the bed, as he pushes into place, like the final piece to a puzzle. One leg is hiked up over the king’s shoulder to give a better position, and it doesn’t take long for him to find that sweet spot.

Prompto reaches over and takes ahold of the adviser’s slim chin, pulling him in as he leans closer, and their lips catch. Gladio and the king lock eyes and smirk at one another as they try to match paces, though there’s an occasional stutter of hips.

By the end of it, quite some time later, each of them had been properly satiated several times over. The trashcan by the bed is littered with condoms and their packaging, and Ignis was currently contemplating the best way to clean up that mess so that a hotel worker wouldn’t have to.

They’d all since settled into a pile of tangled limbs, Gladio at the very bottom of it, like the rock that forms a mountain’s base, and Prompto had managed to wriggle his way to the very top, though he found himself clutched in the arms of both Noctis and Ignis. As best as he could manage, the shield had wrapped both arms around his three companions.

“Mm, that was nice.” Yawning, the blonde stretches his legs out, earning a grimace from their king as cold feet rubs against his shins.

Noctis kicks his feet away from his legs. “Considering you’re the one who started all this…” His tone is anything but accusatory, and he tries to make that obvious not wanting to hurt his friend’s feelings.

“Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy it.” Gladio huffs, shaking the raven in his arms gently by flexing and unflexing.

Reaching towards the bedside table, the adviser took hold of his glasses and slides them into their proper positioning on his face. “Especially since I seem to recall a very wanton king begging for more,”

He’s cut short by a swift kick to his own legs, Prompto yelping as he tries to avoid becoming a casualty in the attack. “I regret being in the middle!”

Ignis grunts at the impact and scowls, slipping himself free from Gladio’s arms and then off from the bed. “Aw, Iggy, don’t be like that.” He was making as show, and they all knew it, but it doesn’t stop Noctis from pouting in return.

“I have dinner to prepare. If you’ll excuse me.”

Prompto lurches free from the grip of both older men, and catches the dagger-wielder by his arm as he goes to shrug his shirt back into place. “Come on, Igster! We’ll get room service; you deserve a break! Come back to bed? Pleeease?”

Clasping his hands together beneath his chin thoughtfully, the ash-brunette seems to give the offer a rather hard thinking before he gives into the blonde’s puppy-dog eyes. “Very well.”

They fell back into relative silence after that, though Prompto swapped placed with their adviser just in case Noctis decided to get kicky again. Gladio let out a soft, rumbling snore and his grip around them gave slightly as he drifted off. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I doubt it would happen, but please don't comment anything rude or degrading in regards to any of the character's, or my own, identities! Such behavior will not be tolerated, and I'll delete the comment. Thank you!


	14. (Gladio/Ignis) Going Away Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> o “Can I have this dance?” Gladnis; prior to the game. There’s a party before the boys are sent off. 1315 words.

Ignis has always been a sharp dresser, but when he walked into the dancehall tonight, dressed in a true suit, black, of course, his hair combed into its natural state rather than the spikey style he’d become so accustomed to seeing, Gladio nearly feels his heart stop. He’d been standing by the food tables, a glass clutched in one hand, with Prompto chattering incessantly by his side, when the adviser had entered the room. So now, here he stands, staring wide-eyed as he watches the other man glide across the floor with steady, even steps as he carries himself to stand by Noctis’s side.

Prompto elbows him in the side, knocking him from his stupor. “Dude, just ask him to dance or something! This is a party after all!”

He catches himself, picking his jaw off the floor. Raising his cup to his lips, he hides a scowl and sips. “No way.” It’s just a sparkling drink, no alcohol on account of their underaged companions and company, but the sweetness of it dances pleasantly on the tongue. “He and I both have to stay near Noctis. Can’t be distracted by it.”

“Come on! Room’s full of friends and family! No one’s gonna do a thing!”

“No.”

Prompto puffs out his cheeks and pouts up at him, before taking a sip of his own drink, deflating. “Fiiine. Have it your way.” He prowls off into the crowd after that, and, last Gladio sees of him, gets caught up in a conversation with his little sister by the desserts.

Fifteen minutes later, he spies Iris approaching the prince, offering him a little curtsy. She asks him something after he straightens from his own bow, and he splutters in reply before offering out a shy hand. Iris takes it into her own, face lighting up, pulling him out onto the dancefloor.

It’s then that their resident gunslinger returns to his side, smiling into his cup as he takes a sip. “Oh, would you look at that. Don’t you and Ignis have to stay nearby?”

“Fiend,” Gladio hisses at him and downs his drink, “probably just about the smoothest any of your plans have ever gone.” The blonde sticks his tongue out in response, but its cut short by the swordsman shoving his empty cup into his hands and then he’s disappearing into the crowd just as Prompto had done moments earlier.

He marches himself right up to Ignis, face stern, and drops himself into a low bow, holding himself there as his cheeks burn. “Can I have this dance?” Over his voice, the band is starting up a new song, but he knows his words reached their target when he stands back up and amber eyes meet surprised green ones.

Though, the look of shock doesn’t stay long on Ignis’s face before he straightens his glasses on his nose and then returns the gesture. “I’d be honored,” a gloved hand slips into his own, rougher one, and they both retreat to the floor just as the dancing starts back up. Their heels click against the floor, and he gently sets one hand beneath Ignis’s arm.

The music is slow, much like the dancing around them, as various other couples take to the floor as well, skirts twisting and flowing. They keep close to their prince, who, by all rights, looks embarrassed to slow dance with his friend’s younger sister, who is also five years his younger, though he’s paid very little attention beside from a few passing glances to make sure he’s still fine. Other than that, eyes of amber and green stay firmly locked into place as the music’s pace picks up, and as do the dancers.

Gladio leads them through three full turns, and watches from the corner of his eye as Noctis stumbles slightly, his little sister laughing softly in exchange. “You look nice tonight,” he mutters as he finds himself leaning in closer.

“As apposed to every other night?” Ignis says, though his voice is teasing.

Amber eyes roll. “You know that’s not what I meant. You look _extra_ nice.”

They both turn into another sweeping arc, and take two steps to the left to stay closer to their prince’s side. He looks towards them for help, but the only assistance he earns is a reassuring nod from his adviser and a soft grin from his shield.

Blue eyes narrow and they watch his mouth form a quiet: “ _traitors_ ”.

Gladio’s shoulders shake with laughter, though it’s cut short as Ignis leans in, the instrumentals drawing to a slower piece of the song. His head comes to rest against a powerful shoulder, green eyes closing accompanied by a content hum.

“You look rather nice yourself, Gladio. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you in a suit before. Though, admittedly, it makes me want to see you without it.”

“You see me in street clothes all the ti- hold up,”

“Mm, I can see the wheels turning in your head, dear shield,”

“Was that a flirt? Were you flirting with me?”

Ignis pushes away a bit, though he doesn’t pull away fully. Worry is evident on his face; despite how much he tries to hide it. They’ve known each other much too long for Gladio to be able to miss the ways his brows crease ever-so-slightly, and how his lips draw into a stern line, indifferent except for the smallest downwards turn the left side.

“Forgive me if I’ve misread the situation,” he says, in that accented voice that Gladio loves so much.

He shakes his head in reply. “No, you didn’t. I just,” he gives it thought for a moment, and hates the way he sees Ignis twitch in the suspense, as if he’s ready to flee at any moment, “hadn’t given it thought that you might feel the same.”

Ignis looks as if the weight of the entire world has been suddenly crane-lifted off of his shoulders, and they slump as much as he could permit while still looking as regal and refined as always. “I’ve been aware of your crush for quite some time now, but had been unsure of my own feelings.”

“You’re surer about them now?”

“Seeing the way you’ve been watching me this whole night has, erm, _enlightened_ me, so to say.”

Their dancing takes them in a few more turnabouts. They both watch as, after having watched long enough, Clarus takes his daughter off of Noctis’s hands, sweeping her around like she was still a small child. Noct looks relieved, though Prompto is quick to stop him from leaving the dancefloor, pulling him along as the music turns boisterous.

Gladio releases his grip so that they can both adjust to the new dancing style. “Meaning?” He inquires.

“I’ve come to realize I quite enjoy being the subject of your attention,” Ignis’s voice is hushed, especially so as he leans in closer, “and that perhaps it was time I stop ignoring my own feelings before we set out on a rather long road trip to see our lovely prince married off.”

“Iggy, how scandalous. You have a crush on little old me?” He has more teasing commentary on the edge of his tongue, but they all drift away as he’s grabbed by his shirt collar and pulled down. Soft lips graze his own, but Ignis leaves him there, unwilling to pull him any closer without explicit permission.

Gladio gives such permission in the form of him rearranging his arms against the adviser’s waist, hiking him closer, and lowering himself those last few measly centimeters to let their lips fully meet. Ignis’s own arms come to rest against his shoulders, pulling him down to intensify the kiss, and, beside them, they hear their friends gasp in surprise as they turn in their dance.

“Hey! My plan worked!”

Without pulling away, Gladio merely reaches over towards the blonde and halfheartedly shoves him.


	15. (Noctis/Prompto) Memory Lane Pastries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> o “I made your favorite.” Promptis; modern setting. When dating royalty, sometimes you just have to spoil them. 1281 words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't really care for this chapter much, so I apologize ;0;
> 
> Mostly just described my process for when I make a recipe very similar to what memory lane pastries appear to be like

It’s nine AM this Saturday morning which is, by all accounts, much too early for either member of this household to be awake on a weekend day. Noctis often refused to rouse before noon, even on a good day, and Prompto considered the weekend his time to take it easy, opting to, instead, go for runs later in the later hours, when it began to cool outside. But yet, here he was, finding himself standing in the kitchen with a borrowed recipe book, made of cumulated, handwritten recipes from over the years. Various sticky notes mark tabs on pages, each color meaning something different -Prompto is quick to realize some colors mean that the dishes are favor by different people, and that yellow is his color, he loves Ignis all the more after flipping through some pages of notes- and he’s quick to find the sole one with handwriting on it.

As per request, Ignis had marked the page obviously for him; a long, thin fluorescent yellow sticky note, with the man’s penmanship spelling out “here, Prompto”. His friend had delivered the book by hand moments prior, alongside some reassurances that he’d do fine, and that he was merely a phone call away if he had any questions. Prompto opens the book up to the proper page and takes in the instructions. To his relatively culinary untrained mind, some of these directions looked rather intimidating…

No backing down now! He grabs the lined pad magnetized to the fridge door and begins to write down ingredients he knew they were missing, doing a quick once over to make sure he didn’t miss anything. When he’d stopped by earlier, Ignis had left bags of flour and sugar, as well as a few other things he knew Prompto would need, but hadn’t seen the point in making him by his own. Tearing the page free, he pockets it and makes for the apartment door, slipping his tennis shoes on before leaving. Three-ish hours would be plenty time to finish everything, surely.

By the end of it, he was pushing the apartment door open with his foot, arms weighed down by a grocery bag full of various ingredients. Several types of berries, cupcake liners… he’d expected to come home with a bit more bags, and a much lighter wallet. Why did fruit have to be so expensive though?

After settling the matter of the groceries, he sets to work on the pastry filling, pouring some water into an empty saucepan. It doesn’t take long to boil, but while it’s taking the time, he sets to washing and dicing up the fruit. Once the boil had set in, the fruit is added alongside it, and then he waits for it to soften, stirring occasionally as he bops in place to music on his phone. Every so often he pauses it, checking that the bedroom fan is still running, signaling his boyfriend is yet to rise. Finally, he deems the fruit finished and removes the pan from the burner, letting it and its contents cool.

Now for the pastry dough. Prompto had begrudgingly let Ignis make it the night prior, one, due to the fact that it needed to chill for an hour at the least, and two, he was terrified he’d ruin it. Once it’s rolled flat, he then slices out several round shapes with the cutter he had kindly been provided, placing them in the cupcake sheet he’d set nearby earlier. To help them keep their proper shape, the pastries are filled with cupcake liners and, oh what were they called again? Prompto glances at the directions and laughs. Oh yeah, baking beans. What a silly sounding name. He slips the sheet into the oven for fifteen short minutes, mixing together the topping in the meantime.

Time up, the oven timer beeps and he’s quick to stop it before the sound carries down the hall to wake Noctis. The dough is glazed with egg once the temporary filling of liners and _baking beans_ are removed, and then slipped back into the oven. He fishes his phone from his pocket.

**Prompto** : hey, igster, got an estimate on how long it takes for these to turn “slightly golden”?

**Ignis** : Not too long. Keep an eye on them, it’ll be fine.

Not the answer he’d been expecting, but it was better than nothing, he supposes. Before long, he removes the sheet for the second time from the oven. Filling is spooned into the empty pastries before the same is then done with the cream topping, and then he slips them back into the oven for half an hour. Half an hour…

Prompto presses the home button on his phone, checking the time. 11:17. Man, time flies when you’re busy, huh? He bounces down the hallway with skipping steps and pushes open the bedroom door.

“Nooooct~” He sing-songs, and tosses himself onto the bed. Grumbling, the raven still buried under the blankets merely rolls over and tries to hide his head under the pillow. “Aw, come on, it’s time to get up, Sleeping Beauty.” Prompto pries the pillow back, and leans down to place a kiss to Noctis’s cheek.

“Sleeping Beauty has nothing on me…” Comes a sleepy reply, spoken halfway into a pillowcase. Laughing, the blonde draws back and scampers off the bed.

“You’ve got a point. Can you get up soon, though? For me? I have a surprise for you!”

“Okay, okay, five more minutes…”

_Five more minutes_ in Noctis Speech meant _Give me another fucking hour, please and thank you._ Prompto smiles over his shoulder at his boyfriend as he leaves the room, though he’s aware it goes unseen.

There’s still plenty of time left on the timer so he starts to clean up the mess he made, throwing away empty containers and placing various equipment into the sink for cleaning. He only gets a few in before the timer goes off, though, this time, he’s much less quick to stop it as he slips the pastries from the oven rack for the final time. From down the hall, he hears Noctis groan at the noise.

They come out looking nearly perfect, a little darker than the golden ones that Ignis makes, but certainly nowhere close to burnt. He hears his boyfriend shuffling around in their room, accompanied by the opening, and closing of dresser drawers. Before long, as he’s still letting the pastries cool, Noctis trudges out of the bedroom and into the bathroom.

Once he deems the pastries cool enough, he slips them free of the pan and onto a plate. They’re still warm, but they don’t burn his fingers, so that’s a definite good sign. Noct is in the archway soon, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“What’re you doing?” His drowsy voice asks.

“I made your favorite!” Prompto replies, turning on his heel to display the plate full of round, little pastries.

Noctis immediately lights up. “You made these? Dude, you’ve been holding out on me? Tsk, tsk, and to think I trusted you…”

Rolling his eyes at the playful tone, the blonde merely lifts up one of the little pastries and holds it out for his boyfriend to take a bite. His blue eyes brighten as soon as he does, a smile settling on his lips.

“Iggy brought me his recipe book this morning. I wanted to surprise you!”

“Well you certainly succeeded.”

Prompto took a bite, deeming himself worthy of trying the desserts he’d spent all morning laboring over. “They’re not quite as good as Ignis’s but-”

“Quiet you,” Noctis leans down to catch the blonde’s lips with his own, receiving a startled noise in return, “they’re perfect. Thank you.”


End file.
